First Sight
by fromBelgiumwithchocolatexD4
Summary: A series of small crack-pairings that randomly came to mind. First deals with Taiwan x Lithuania. :D Hope you enjoy it. Hetalia does not belong to me, I hope it did, but it dosen't. XD Rated T for potty mouths later in story!
1. Coffee

Taiwan first caught sight of him at the conference. That smooth chocolate brown hair and cool green eyes that trapped themselves in the person who was speaking. Instantly, she fell for his simple yet beautiful looks and nice personality. Lithuania, the name just rolled off her tongue, leaving behind a sweet aftertaste. She fingered her own long brown hair and she felt over-dressed as her fingertips brushed against the flower that she carefully pinned into place every morning. She scowled, her forehead crumpling in a frown, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Taiwan-chan? Are you feeling alright?" Japan asked her, his voice laced with concern. She nodded. Japan nodded, and went back to his seat to start writing once again. She sighed and flopped down, exhausted. Suddenly, a nice aroma made her glance upwards. Lithuania was looking down at her, his eyes warm and welcoming. "I thought you could use a little pick up." he said, his cheeks flushing a faint pink, matching hers. She took the cup, breathing in the scent of the coffee, and smiled up at him. "Thank you, Mr. Lithuania." she said, taking a small sip. He smiled back, not making any move to go back to his seat. Taiwan took a deep breath and asked the question. "Would you like to get some coffee after this?"

"Coffee…would be great."


	2. The Benefits Of Being Late

Korea was late as usual to the World Conference. He didn't mean to be, he just was. His hanbok sleeves flapping in the wind as he ran as fast as he could towards the gray building that was his destination. He was sprinting so fast he didn't notice the teenage blond girl walking in front of him.

Liechtenstein had no intention of being late. She had woken up on time to find a note from her older brother saying that he was going ahead of her and not to be late. Then her shoes had mysteriously gone missing until she finally found them in the laundry room for a strange reason. She had checked the clock and she was already 5 minutes late. She knew she had to get there before Switzerland started shooting everyone in anger. She had gotten ¾ of the way there when something rammed into her back so hard that she fell forward, instinctively turning around to protect her face and torso. The person that had crashed into her landed right on top of her, his hands grasping her wrists and pinning them to the Earth.

She stared up, startled as she found herself gazing into a brown pair of eyes that were equally surprised. They stayed there for a moment before the boy on top of her threw himself off with such force you'd think she was a time bomb ready to explode. She sat up dazed with a dull, stinging pain in her knee, where the gash in her tights was seeping out a thin trail of blood. Then with a jolt, she recognized him. This was one of the more perverted nations that brother had warned her against. Mr. Korea, wasn't it?

Korea rubbed his head all the while staring at the blond girl. He knew her face…..AHA! He remembered now. Liechtenstein, the little sis of the trigger-happy Swiss that on more than one occasion was ecstatic to point his gun at the Asian nation. He took in her appearance, her face frightened and a nasty cut on her leg. She winced as she put a finger to it and withdrew it. He shuffled closer and took hold on his sleeve.

With an almighty rip, a strip of the fabric came off and he beckoned her with his hand, smiling at her. He didn't like seeing her scared silly of him. She hesitated and then cautiously scooted over to his side. "Hello Ms. Liechtenstein! It's been a long time since we've seen each other, da-ze." he said, gesturing for her to stretch out her leg so he could doctor the cut. She did so and he carefully slid the fabric under her leg and tied it in a bow. "That should hold it until the conference ~da-ze!" he concluded, nodding his head in satisfaction. She nodded and bowed her head hurriedly. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to knock into you, I really didn't!" she stuttered, tears threatening to spill over her eyes.

He flushed.

"It wasn't your fault, don't blame yourself da-ze!" he said, taking her hands and holding them tight. They both looked at each other for a minute, caught in the moment, until Liechtenstein noticed the time on her clock. They were now 30 minutes late. No doubt the meeting was going chaotic. She shrieked and showed Korea the clock. He freaked out. He then picked up the frazzled Germanic nation bridal-style and started to sprint.

Just before entering the conference, Korea spun Liechtenstein around and tilted her head up. He gently pressed his lips to her cheek and let go, winking before he went to his family, who descended upon him like sharks and then she was pulled away from the scene by her older brother. She let a faint blush dust her cheeks.

Maybe Korea wasn't as bad as everyone thought he was.


	3. Letters To My Beloved

Dear Seychelles,

I've probably written this letter a thousand times before- and then smoked pot afterwards, hey, don't look at me like that, see how honest I'm being for you?

Listen.

Things might have not worked out between us, and that was my fault for being such an ass when you were suffering at the hands of the English nutcase, and here's the part where the elevator music plays while I go beat that son of a bitch to a pulp, but I want you to know that I didn't mean what I said.

Seychelles, you are beautiful. So goddamn gorgeous, in mind, body, and soul. You made me feel like a person again, not just the Netherlands, the guy who's good for drugs. When we were on your beach, your blue dress had ridden up your thighs, and you just laughed it off, not caring. When we kissed, I could feel the heat pass between us. When we just sat there, talking about ourselves, I could see the sea in your eyes.

This might sound sappy and stupid but it's the truth.

_Ik hou van je._

-Netherlands


	4. Flowers

Italy loved flowers.

It was just as simple as that. He loved how the smelled, how their petals could be different, so much like the countries themselves. The lily for France, the edelweiss was for Austria, the chrysanthemum for Japan, and so much more. Tulips, though, caught his attention. He was fascinated by the closed flower, the petals standing upright until fully bloomed, when they spread little from each other, invisible bonds keeping them together. Like Hungary, or Turkey, or….The Netherlands.

Italy heaved a sigh and fell back against the beds of flowers surrounding Spain's house, his eyes drifting closed. All of a sudden, he could feel rough, calloused hand skim over the thin fabric of his shirtfront, one hand sliding under the hem of said shirt, splaying themselves on Italy's stomach. His eyes jolted open from the sensation, and he opened his mouth to scream for help, but a pair of lips cut him off, soft and tender as they were pressed against his. He mentally shrugged. Well, there wasn't anything he could do about it, so he kissed back, wondering when the last time he had kissed anyone who actually wanted to be kissed by him.

As he matched the stranger's lips, he felt it was the Netherlands that was smiling over him, running a hand through Italy's hair, Netherlands' lips kissing his. After a while, both fell into a deep sleep, the stranger's arms around Italy's frame

It was nightfall when Italy woke up. The Italian blushed. There, holding him, was no one else but The Netherlands, his blue- striped scarf stretched out so that it could wrap around both of their necks.

Maybe it hadn't been a dream after all.

**-I WANT SOME! D:-**

HI! I re-did this chapter because I thought it could be improved. :D Anyways, hope you liked it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	5. He Said, She said

**It shouldn't have worked. **

_He was from a protective family. _

Her bother couldn't wait to get into her pants.

_He was used to the cold. _

She had lived on a tropical island most of her life.

_He was always smiling, no matter what came his way. _

She broke down crying if someone expressed the slightest dissatisfaction with her.

**But despite all this, he loved her, and she him. **

_He loved the way those two pigtails of hers bounced against their red bows. _

She loved how the white beret she gave him sat jauntily on his head.

_He loved how whenever she would visit him in the winter, snowflakes would dance in her hair. _

She loved how the gold of his shone in the sun.

_Finland loved Seychelles._

_And Seychelles loved Finland. _


	6. OniiChan

"Ice." Norway said, sliding up behind his younger brother. "What Nor?" Iceland asked tiredly, inclining his head in Norway's general direction to show he was listening. He had a bad feeling about what was about to happen next. "Onii-chan." Norway whispered, pressing his body up against the back of his brother's. Ice shook his head, no way in hell was he going to say that ever to his brother. Ice stiffened, but let the older hug him. It was nostalgic in a way. It was like the old days when he was small. He unconsciously leaned back against his brother, head resting on the taller nation's shoulder. Norway let a smirk pass through his lips as he bent down and neatly sunk his teeth into the skin of Ice's neck. The reaction was instantaneous. Ice's face flushed and his eyelids drooped down over his violet eyes. His hands clenched the rim of the kitchen counter as Norway's tongue slowly grazed the surface of the bite that Ice knew was going to leave a mark later.

Norway promptly spun the frazzled nation around and pressed a knee in between the legs of the boy. Ice threw his head back in the wake of the moan that issued out between his lips. Norway pressed even harder against him, taking no notice of the white gloved fists pummeling his chest. The blond nation pinned his brother's wrists to the smooth counter, and captured the Icelandic nation's lips in a soft kiss. Iceland stopped resisting, the action freeing his wrists, and letting them rest around the elder's neck, and very shyly returning the rough kiss his brother had started.

As the two Nordics kissed, a certain Hungarian accompanied by her Japanese cohort nearly used up all their footage in the cameras they carried at all times as they watched, the Hungarian having to wedge two tissues up her nose to stop the oncoming gush of blood.

God, how she loved incest.

-I3Incest-

HIYA ALL! I tried doing something different for a change! SPECIAL THANKS TO Map Of The Stars, 4 REVIEWING EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY CRACK PAIRINGS. =D


	7. Kiss me

Sweden arrived first at the conference. It was a first. Usually he waited around the house for Finland and then they would go together, but this time, he had a strong feeling something would be waiting for him when he got there. Maybe he had forgotten his paperwork again. Yes, that had to be it.

The blond nation pushed open the conference door, and sure enough there was his paperwork, sitting there like it owned the world. Sweden sat down in his chair and leaned back, putting a hand on his face, and the other on the armrest. He could sleep for a few minutes, right? It wouldn't hurt anyone. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, sleep quickly overtaking him.

**-Tomato Transition- **

Spain took a bite out of crisp, plump tomato as he entered the conference. He did a double take. No one was there except….Sweden. Spain's eyes softened considerably. His feelings for the seemingly-scary nation had escalated to such a degree, he could feel all the blood in his body go down to his happy place every time he saw him.

The Spaniard looked at the Nordic, and found he was completely asleep.

He smiled, and went over to him. The green-eyed nation gently straddled him, locking his arms around the Nordic. Sweden mumbled in his sleep, his arms coming to a rest around the Spaniard's waist, pulling his close. Spain put his head against the Nordic's chest and inhaled his ever-present scent of wood and fresh air that lingered on his clothes. Spain's hands involuntarily found a place they both were absurdly happy with and rested here, and a groan issued from the Swede, somehow still in his sleep.

"S-spainien!" the Nordic cried out, his sleeping face contorting into an uncomfortable expression. The Spaniard stopped groping the sleeping nation. Spainien….Sweden had said "Spain" in his sleep. The 3ed member of the Bad Touch Trio touched his lips to those of a burly Nordic, and once more for good measure. It wasn't enough. Knowing that this was what Sweden dreamed about, he couldn't help it. He assaulted the Swedes mouth with his own.

Sweden's eyes jolted open.

**-Whoa, this is awkward… transition?-**

Well, this hadn't happened before. Not that Sweden was complaining. He had woken up to a tongue asking for dominance into his mouth. His eyes opened as fast as humanly possible, thinking it was Denmark drunk stupid again, but he was pleasantly surprised when his eyes met a certain Spaniard's green ones. Both of them jerked backwards, Spain falling onto the floor, and Sweden tipping over backwards in his chair. Both panting heavily, they looked at each other. Sweden's jaw hardened, his face regaining its scary expression. Spain was starting to stutter out Spanish apologies when Sweden silenced him with a simple….

"K'ss meh, ya fool."

Spain had never responded with such enthusiasm to ANYTHING. Outside, you could almost hear the faint sound of a camera shutter.

**-Hehehehe transition-**

**Heheheh, I love crack pairings. Please leave a review if you want to. I think I'll be posting a poll soon about which couples I should make into their own story. :D **


	8. My Girl

The white of the hospital wall was all Elizabeta saw.

The man beside her fidgeted nervously. "You're leaving me? Why?" the Hungarian 19-year old stuttered. "It's complicated, Elizabeta." the spiky-haired man sighed. "What's so complicated about it?" she snapped. The man took a step back. "You never wanted this baby and now you're deserting me?" The man dropped to his knees, threading a hand through her thick brown hair. "It's not that at all. I love you and this baby! It's just for now. I have to go." Matthias, a twenty-three year old Dane, said, fastening an orange flower clip behind her ear. She nodded, but knew he wouldn't return come back to her anyways. He smiled slightly, bent down and kissed her head, and then was gone. As if on cue, the nurse entered the room and gave her the three words that changed her life forever.

"It's a girl!"

Elizabeta's tears turned to ones of joy as she rested a hand on her stomach. "I hope you're nothing like him. Pure woman, just like your Anya*." she murmured to the bump.

**Anya* - Supposedly Hungarian for 'mother'**

**I'm getting excited about this concept. Maybe I should continue with it. I used human names b/c I felt the urge to.**

**XDXD**


	9. You're All That I Can See

Belarus was angry.

Just very angry.

Furious, even.

Russia, her brother, was crushing the nation under him. AGAIN. The nation did nothing to fight back, just sat there, looking dejected. She knew who the nation was, lots of times had she heard of him, despite what everyone said. She took out a dagger and began to unconsciously whittle away her nails into their killer points. She glared down at the knife, her hand clenching it tighter.

Why couldn't he stand up for himself? She gripped the edge of the table, driving the knife point in harder and harder in her thoughts about the invisible nation. Before she knew it, she had drilled a hole in the table and the meeting was over. She watched as Russia got up off the nation and went over to America, most likely to throw insults at the dumb American. She watched as the nation most people couldn't see got up stiffly, and stretched, the joints popping painfully as he shook himself out, that _cute_ hair of his-**wait what? No, he was definitely not cute, just very….interesting. Yes, that was it. **

**The icy nation stared at him as he picked up his polar bear, Kumatata or something. Then the creature asked a question Belarus was sure she had heard wrong. "Who?" This was too much for the Belarusian girl. She sprung from her seat and thrust her knife under the animals chin. "He's Canada. Don't forget it." she growled, and retracted the blade. She then spun on her heel and started to walk away, but was stopped by an arm on hers. "You….see me?" a shy voice asked. She rolled her eyes and turned around. "Of course I do. Don't be stupid." she snapped, and wrenched her arm free. **

**Canada watched as she exited the conference, her older sister following after. **

**Did it feel hot in here or was it just him? **


	10. A Promise

"Lithuania, aren't you going to say goodbye to our guest?" Russia said, the hand on my shoulder tightening. I said nothing, just gazed at the man before me. The albino's ruby eyes gazed solemnly into mine, not minding the arm tugging on his own by Germany.

"Say something." Russia ordered. I however kept my mouth shut. A silent understanding passed between myself and the Prussian. Either of us would cry or scream if we opened our mouths. Neither of us wanted to see the other cry. Russia frowned, and then surprisingly took his hand off of my shoulder. "I'll take Estonia and Latvia back to the house, da?" he whispered so that only myself could hear. I, still stunned, nodded and turned back to face Prussia to find Germany retreating down the slope to his car, and Prussia still there. Without any second thought I flung myself into Prussia's arms, sobbing. I could feel him rocking me back and forth in an embrace.

"I'm sorry I have to go."

"I'm going to miss you so much." I sighed.

"You'll see me again."

"How do I know?" I asked, pushing back slightly to look at the Prussian. The ex-nation was smiling gently at me, the tears still running down his face though. "Know this." the Prussian said, panting a gentle kiss onto my lips. "And this." Another kiss was placed, but on the nape of my neck. "And also this. My promise I'll always come back to you." the Prussian said, taking his rosary off and tying it around my neck. I fingered the new weight at my neck and smiled. He kissed my head and before I knew it, he was following his brother down the slope. I waved, watching as the light swirled around him, making him look like he was trailed by a shower of golden sparks. He stopped at the car and waved back to me. He smiled and touched his throat, the same place where his rosary sat on mine.

A promise.

He would come back to me.

_-End-_

**I just felt like writing this….yeah. Please review if you want. :D**


	11. So They Say

They say she was a sweet girl.

They say you could hear the sky crying the day she was buried, the droplets kissing the wood of her coffin.

They commented on how broken her brother was, collapsing next to the headstone, sobbing.

They tell you in wonder about the hundreds of people mourning this poor girl.

What they didn't tell you.

They never told you she had a boyfriend.

White haired, violet-eyed, carried a puffin on his shoulder.

They never told you he went out of his way that morning to get her most favorite flowers, lilies.

They never commented on him pressing a kiss to the coffin's smooth, polished face, his tears being absorbed by the wind.

They never said how the wind carried her favorite melody, Pachelbel's Canon in D major as played by her Austrian cousin over the scores of headstones, the ground vibrating with the emotion packed into the piece.

They never said anything about the simple, but beautiful golden wedding ring that shone on the bouquet of lilies.

But, they do say he loved her.

They were right.

-**UMMM. DARK, MUCH? Transition-**

**I just felt a dark feeling and chose to write it….yeah. Please review if you want to.**

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN ALL YOU PEOPLE OF EARTH AND BEYOND!**


	12. Beretta 92

Dedicated to Xou who suggested this pairing. XD

**-Cracktastic transition-**

The rain pounded hard against the cobblestones as the two figures raced through the downpour. The boy wore a tight black jumpsuit and combat boots. His torso and limbs were strapped down with guns though. Looped around his chest were belts of ammo, twin pistols in the holsters at his hips, and he carried an assault rifle affectionately known as "Tombstone" in his hands. His shoulder-length blond hair, much to his annoyance, had been tied up hastily because it had kept getting in his eyes. His eyes were hardened emerald orbs that could immediately make you pee your pants in fear, and it was with these eyes he looked at his partner in crime.

The girl hadn't been his first choice for a partner, but you didn't always get what you want. However, they worked well together.

Both loved their siblings to the point of possessiveness, and both understood the other's pains. The partner was in an identical jumpsuit and boots, but was not trigger-happy. She could kill amazingly well, the reason being the army of blades concealed by the folds of smooth fabric. Her platinum-blond hair was also in a ponytail, but she wore a black bow that nestled comfortably on her head. She returned the look and nodded ever so slightly. They then heard the sound of footsteps and frantic shouting behind them.

The boy, whose name was Vash Zwingli, turned around and let loose the true power of the gun, watching as the bullets lodged themselves into the brains of the men chasing them. A volley of knives took out the next wave of pursuers. He looked in admiration at his partner, and as much as he would deny it in public, his best friend, Natalya Arlovskaya as she quickly retrieved her knives from her opponents flesh. They stood there for a moment to guarantee no more were after them, and then sat down on the curb. The Belorussian girl put herself to work, wiping the blades on her pants leg to clean them, and the Swiss boy reached into his pocket and brought out a chocolate.

He tossed it at her.

Without looking up, she grabbed it from mid-air. "Happy Valentines day, Natalya." the teenager told her, a grin stretching its way across his face . She cocked her head to one side, contemplating this, and the smallest of smiles graced her features. She popped the chocolate into her mouth and chewed.

"Mmmm, Toblerone, huh?" she asked, and he nodded. "You know me way too well." she said. He leaned over. Their lips met and melded together like a symphony. "Happy Valentines day." she murmured to him.

He nodded.

The Swiss teenager knew the knife slowly tracing circles on his back was only a sign of love.

**-Well...transition-**

Hope you enjoyed it. I'm not supposed to be on the computer right now because I got my sorry butt grounded. Please review if you want to! :D

Hasta la Pasta!


	13. Movie Night

**It was Tuesday. **

In Lili Zwingli's vocabulary that meant movie night. She started the weekly preparations at 8:00.

Fluffing the pillows, wiping the dust and dirt from the coffee table her brother had bought for them. Often her older brother would forget the rule he himself had made about not putting your feet on the table. She flitted around in the only pair of skinny jeans she owned, due to her brother's over protectiveness, and an old purple t-shirt she'd had for as long as she could remember.

Soon it was 8:30, and she did the next thing on her checklist.

She started popping the mega-bags of popcorn her American friend smuggled in past the watchful eyes of her brother. Then she would go downstairs and pull out the vodka bottles she had carefully hidden from, yes her brother.

She positioned them on the top of the coffee table and flopped down onto the cushions of the couch, not a minute too late it seemed, because at that moment, 8:45, her best friend, Ivan Braginski opened the door to her apartment, took off his boots, and plopped down beside her on the couch. He turned to her. "So, horror night tonight, da?" his accented voice asked her, his arm snaking around her petite frame. She slowly nodded, already fearing what the Russian teen had brought, and he slid the disk into the player.

**20 minutes later….**

OH MY GOD. Lili sat on the couch, head pressed between her knees to stop the oncoming faint. Never had she seen something as…bloody as the movie Ivan had brought over. She felt another wave of nausea rock her frame and sent her spiraling to the floor. She felt Ivan's rough, large hands catch her and pull her against him.

She didn't mind.

She didn't mind when his lips pressed against hers.

She didn't hear the door open.

However she did hear the telltale click of her brother's prize gun. "This doesn't look like movie night to me!" his harsh Swiss voice nearly yelled. She gulped. Oh man was she in trouble.

**-*runs around apartment screaming about Swiss brothers* transition-**

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT. SORRY IF IT'S BAD, I JUST RANDOMLY THOUGHT OF IT. PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU WANT TO!

Hasta la Pasta!


	14. Play me Like a Violin

Long arms wrapped around Austria's waist and tightened. Austria sighed, half in anger, half in exasperation. He knew who it was, he could feel the stubble pressing against the back of his head. Besides, no one had that same skin color as the man behind him had. "Hello Turkey." he said, not bothering to turn around to look at his…well, Turkey. The Mediterranean nation bent down to affectionately nuzzle the Austrian's hair. "How many times have I told you to call me Sadiq?" the heavily accented voice of the Turkish man murmured into Austria's ear, lightly nibbling on the lobe. The Austrian felt his knees threatening to buckle underneath him, and he grabbed the counter for support.

For a moment, the Austrian's anger dissipated. He smiled softly, leaning backwards into Turkey's arms. Then he realized what he was doing and his anger returned, more furious than ever. His black-booted foot came down hard on Turkey's foot. Immediately the sophisticated nation was whipped around so he was facing Turkey. "What's with you Roderich? Turkey growled, his green eyes narrowing. Austria shoved the Turk off him and stood there, radiating malice.

"**WHAT DID YOU WANT ME TO BE WHEN I'VE JUST SEEN MY BOYFRIEND SUCKING THE FACE OFF MY EX-WIFE?"** the normally docile Austrian yelled, smacking Turkey's chest with each word. His glasses slipped off his face and shattered against the floor, revealing the teary purple irises. Turkey took a step back, positively shocked. Then he reached for the Austrian again, pushing him against the counter. "What on earth do you think you're do-MPH!" Austria shakily exclaimed, only to be cut off by a rough kiss. A knee pressed itself against Austria's vital regions and the owner of such regions let out a long shuddering breath before being kissed again by the Turk. Austria felt Turkey's tongue forcing his mouth open, letting him explore thoroughly. His hands clenched in the Turk's jacket and he felt a hand positioning itself on the small of his back, pulling him closer.

Soon though, both nations had to come up for air. Turkey immediately wrapped the shorter man in a hug. "I honestly didn't mean to kiss her," he muttered, clenching the pianist closer, as if afraid the fragile nation would leave him. "She kept yelling at me so I shut her up. Got a pretty big dent on the head from that crazy frying pan she carries around with her. Am I forgiven?"

The Austrian contemplated this for a moment then buried his head in Turkey's chest, nodding once. "Of course you are, moron. Honestly, why I love you, I don't know."

"Oh you know why. Care to see?" The Turkish man smirked.

"By all means, play my violin." The Austrian said, licking his lips. The Turkish man grinned.

"Oh you asked for it!"

**-Anyone else having a nosebleed transition-**

**My best friend in the whole wide world and beyond pointed to this crack pairing in my book of crack parings, and I had to do it. PLEASE REVIEW if you want to. **

**Hasta la Pasta! **


	15. His Yao

Yao Wang was one person you definitely didn't want to mess with.

Half the time he was like a girl on his period, and the other half of the time he was a bundle of brotherly over protectiveness. However despite all that, Antonio Fernández Carriedo found him irresistible. The Spaniard loved the way his normally pale and stoic face would get all flustered when dealing with his family members, it would flush red just like a cherry tomato.

Hmmm, tomatoes. He closed his emerald eyes, leaning against the outside wall of the school, envisioning the grouchy face of his ex-boyfriend Romano. He felt a pang of loneliness stab mercilessly into his chest.

He missed his tomato.

But the Spaniard didn't blame him for breaking up with him.

Anyone would if they came across their boyfriend and the treasurer of the student council making out on their desk.

Antonio rubbed the STILL-throbbing place on his head, wincing. Geez, after three months it still ached from the frying pan Romano had stole from his sister and used to clobber him with. His eyes reopened, a sigh escaping his lips. It didn't matter though. At that moment, his Chinese dream came out the double doors, bundles of papers in both arms. The Spaniard rushed to help him, and before Yao had a chance to react, Antonio had captured Yao's lips in a sweet "Hello" kiss. When they broke apart, Yao playfully swatted at Antonio's chest, shaking his head. "So rude~ aru." the Asian grumbled, but still smiled.

Antonio missed Romano, that's for sure, but he had something even better.

He had Yao.

-Awwz, well, that's the ending fellow crack lovers. Transition-

HIYA! I was looking down a list of my crack pairings I need to do and came across this one, and just typed this up without thinking. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	16. What you Wished for

Norway was alone. That was all there was to it.

11:52 p.m on Christmas Eve, and his house, usually inhabited by at least his brother Iceland or that annoying Denmark, was quiet, the lights however, still cheerily blazing. Even his magical friends had deserted him on this holiday. He knew that Sweden and Finland couldn't make it, Fin was flying and Sweden insisted on helping his **"w'fe". **But, Iceland had passed Norway over in favor of his boyfriend, Hong Kong this year. No doubt Denmark was getting drunk at some random bar. His eyes darted to the clock in the living room, he had a perfect view of it from where he sat, re-reading the book of Norse myths he'd had since, well, forever. 11:57.

Suddenly he heard something outside. He flew to the window, thinking it might be his beloved brother, only to find it wasn't him. An island nation, but it wasn't Iceland. Gleaming in the moonlight, the snow landing softly on his blond hair, his emerald green eyes brightened at seeing Norway's face in the window….England walked up the drive to the Nordic nation's house.

Norway ran to meet him at the door, and was engulfed by a hug, surprised at the rare display of affection from the British nation, but nevertheless returned the hug. "Flying Mint Bunny told me you were lonely. I haven't seen you as often as I've liked to, Nor." the Brit sighed, threading his hands through Norway's silky blond hair, fingering the cross barrette fastening the locks together. "Doesn't matter, idiot. You're here now, aren't' you?" he mumbled into England's chest. England murmured into his ear "It's 11:59, make a wish." Norway shut his eyes tight, and wished for the one thing he wanted The ringing of a bell signaled it was (finally) was Christmas. England pulled back enough to plant a kiss on Norway's mouth, blushing furiously. Norway relaxed into the kiss, and thought to himself, "This was what I wished for."

Up in the sky, Finland gave a delighted laugh and high-fived his partner in crime. Their plan had worked for once.

**-End of this cracktastic thing- **

**I had too much sugar last night and thought this up. Sorry if it's bad, it was really 11:52 last night, and I just like Christmas too much. Please review if you want to. **

**Hasta la Pasta! **


	17. My Brother's Keeper

**-Dedicated to AnaMachado-**

"Iceeeeeee~" the harsh voice of the Dane called throughout the house. Iceland quietly closed his book and put it back on the bookshelf , making sure to take too long, trying to delay seeing the mess Denmark had become after Norway had left him. "Island, hvor er du*!" the Dane yelled, and the island nation could hear heavy footfalls on the staircase, each one more menacing than the last. Despite his urge to run, Iceland stayed put, waiting as the steps stopped in front of his door. "Ice? You in there?" the voice (that made him want to hide under his bed) said. "Yes, Denmark, I'm in here." he called to Denmark. God, he could _FEEL_ the smirk through the door that separated them. The door swung open with a slow click from the lock, and Demark stepped in.

Reeking of booze, as usual.

The Danish nation crossed the room in 2 long strides and wrapped his arms around Iceland's petite frame. "There you are. I was worried." Denmark murmured into Iceland's hair. "You weren't worried. You only want to hold something of Norway's to give yourself comfort." Iceland thought bitterly to himself. Denmark, as if sensing this, clutched Iceland tighter. "You won't ever leave me, will you Ice?" he asked, his face becoming childish and desperate. Iceland sighed and gave a slight nod. "That's what I love about you." Denmark said, kissing the top of Iceland's head.

They both knew that he would leave Denmark someday, but it wasn't anytime soon. Iceland actually liked having the nuisance around some of the time. However, Iceland also knew that the main attraction Denmark had towards him was because of the resemblance between him and his brother.

But was there anything wrong with that?

**-Norway is an awesome character…transition-**

Well then. Technically Denmark/Iceland isn't a marvelously crack couple like Sweden/Spain is, but I had fun writing it. Please review if you want to! :D

Hasta la Pasta!

*Island, hvor er du**?-Iceland, where are you?**


	18. Sachertorte

Seychelles really was a fine young lady, Austria thought to himself. Always polite, poised when furious, had impeccable manners…all the things Austria liked in his women. He watched her now as she daintily took a bite of the Sachertorte he had shared with her. His heart skipped a beat when she took her napkin and dabbed at the chocolate crumbs on the corner of her moth. She really was a gem despite being raised partially by that French idiot. He ought to give England more credit, he supposed, being the one to colonize Seychelles in the first place.

He smiled at her. She looked startled for a moment, but gave him a sweet smile in return that made her amber eyes positively twinkle. "You should smile more often Mr. Austria, it suits you." her musical voice told him. "Thank you, Ms. Seychelles." he replied to her, smiling at her again. She checked her watch. "I must go. Thank you for the wonderful Sachertorte and the tea." she exclaimed, laying her fork across her cake plate, like a born and bred European, and stood up, making the Austrian's heart flutter. He stood up as well, and walked her to the door.

"Please come anytime you wish." he said, helping the island nation into her jacket. "I'll take you up on that." she laughed. He leant over and kissed her cheek, his lips lingering by her ear to whisper " You must."

**-Well, wait till Hungary hears about this transition-**

HEY! I wrote this during math class….heheheh. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	19. Jealousy

Poland was an interesting country, England thought to himself as he filed his paperwork. The Pole dressed as a girl most of the time, and England found he actually quite enjoyed it when the European nation did. Poland made a very pretty girl. His paperwork fell with a soft rustling on the Englishman's desk as he thought about the way Poland would twirl in that delicate manner of his, flaunting the fabric to his best friend, Lithuania. Lithuania, the one who was near Poland at all times whenever he could be. What was this choking, burning sensation?

Was this_….JEALOUSY_?

_No, it couldn't be_, the Englishman hurriedly thought to himself, shaking his head a few times just for good measure. He couldn't be jealous of **Lithuania **of all nations. There were plenty of nations whom he was jealous of. France, for having the preference of Seychelles and for that damn long hair of his. America, the ungrateful brat, for his annoying popularity and history chock full of sob-stories that gained sympathy from everyone, turning America into a tragic hero.

England still hadn't forgiven him for his independence. Anyways, he wasn't jealous of Lithuania's friendship with Poland. He wasn't jealous of how the brunette got to openly admire the sweep of colors that decorated the feminine boy's frame 24/7. He wasn't jealous at all.

Of course not.

**-Awww, Iggy's in denial. TRANSITION!-**

Hey, crack-lovers out there! Sorry I haven't been updating the cracks as often, the muses didn't amuse me. Heheh. Anyways, hope you liked the Poland x England thing. If you guys want, I'll be uploading Poland's view of England next….I need new crack pairings, so if anyone needs one, I'll be happy to write it. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	20. Nap Time

"Greece? Is that you?" a accented voice exclaimed. Greece rolled over and cracked open an eyelid to see who in his right mind had disturbed his nap. If it was France again, he swore he would go all "THIS IS SPARTA!" on him. When he saw who it was, he lowered his eyelids again in sleep. It was no one but silly Italy. He should have known.

No one had such a bubbly, cute voice. The cats taking their nap on him woke up and immediately glomped the waving Italian. "VE!" the childish voice screamed as one of his cats, Hercules, licked his cheek. Greece stifled a laugh, now fully awake, but pretending to be asleep . No one could sleep very well with that endearing Italian around. He didn't now how Germany managed it.

He heard Italy come closer, and felt a smooth, long finger touch his cheek. "Are you awake?" Italy asked. There was the poke again. And again. Again. Again. Oh, for crying out loud. As fast as you could say "PASSSSTTTAAA!", Greece had seized the Italian's hand and pulled him down onto the grass with him, effectively silencing the Italian, and those fingers of his. One of Greece's arms rested around Italy's waist, pulling him closer so that Italy's head was burrowed into the Grecian's chest, and the other arm bent to create a pillow for the Italian's head. Italy stiffened, but then relaxed into the embrace, snuggling closer. Greece soon heard soft breathing and pressed a quick kiss to the Italian's lips.

Greece didn't mind having his nap time disturbed occasionally.

Anything for this lovable kitten.

**-Gretalia…heheh.-**

HALLO! It's been a long time, da? Hope you liked it, don't forget to request pairings you've never seen before! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	21. Apron

Germany sighed as he reluctantly knocked on the front door to America's house. Curse his boss, curse his luck….if you couldn't tell, he REALLY didn't want to be there. Sure, it was for the good of his nation to have good relations with this superpower, but America's hero complex kept Germany at bay. It had worked. Then out of the blue, their bosses had scheduled this meeting, and all of Germany's hard work fell through, just like that. He ran a hand through his hair, and the locks on the door were unlocked. He straightened himself up immediately, just in time, for the door opened.

He frowned. This wasn't America. Brown hair, green eyes….wasn't this Lithuania? What was he doing in America's house? Where was America? Lithuania's eyes widened. "Mr. Germany? Please, come in, come in! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that Mr. America had a guest today!" the Lithuanian babbled, stepping aside so that Germany could enter. The Germanic nation entered the house while Lithuania shut the door. "Don't be sorry, Lithuania. I should have expected this from him." Germany sighed, neatly hanging his coat up in the American's closet.

He turned around, and nearly had a heart attack. Lithuania had on a pair of skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, but over that was the girliest apron Germany had ever seen, and with Italy around, he had seen plenty of girly aprons. This one was pink. Pink, pink, pink. Crisscrossed with white thread making it look like plaid, and it positively clung to him…**oh mein gott. **He blushed. Was he checking out Lithuania? Lithuania gave him an apologetic smile.

"Poland gave me this." he explained, and Germany made sure to thank Poland profusely the next time he saw the cross-dresser." "I'm sure Mr. America will be back soon, he just went over to Mr. Canada's for some 'brotherly bonding time', he said." Lithuania told Germany, leading him through the large house until they reached the kitchen. A pleasant aroma of baked bread issued forth from the room.

Lithuania sliced the loaf of toasted bread, smearing butter onto the top of the bread in smooth, polished strokes. Germany watched this and allowed a slight smile to grace his features.

This experience wasn't half-bad…Maybe he should come over to America's more often.

Not to see the annoying American nation, but to see the charming Lithuania. And that apron of his. Especially that apron of his. That apron of his ON him. That was a nice thought.

**-Umm….-**

**WAIT. **Did Germany get turned on to Lithuania…by an apron? PFFT. LOLZ. I realized… Has anyone done Germany /Lithuania? Anyone? Anyone at all? Anyways, please review if you want to!

**Hasta La Pasta! **


	22. Callebaut

**-Dedicated to Xou-**

"How about this one?" Switzerland asked the blindfolded nation in front of him. Said blindfolded nation opened her mouth and a chocolate was placed inside by the Swiss nation. The girl nation chewed silently for a moment and then smirked. "Easy. Swiss milk chocolate." Switzerland's eyes narrowed as he put another chocolate into the girl's mouth. "What one is this?" he asked. The girl contentedly ate the chocolate piece offered and grinned. " Lindt, of course." Switzerland sighed.

"Ready to admit I know all types of chocolate, Switzy?" He then smiled maliciously. "Not yet." He put the last chocolate into his mouth and kissed the girl. She was surprised, but didn't pull away. After transferring the chocolate over to her, he asked again. "Do you know that one?" She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

He laughed. How ironic. "You can tell which chocolates are mine, but you can't tell your own? You shock me, Belgium." Belgium grinned and pulled off the blindfold. "Just kidding. It's Callebaut. See you next time, honey!" She got up from her chair and walked out of the room, her emerald eyes dancing in laughter.

He sat there, stunned, and then ran after his girlfriend.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'JUST KIDDING'? GET BACK HERE BELGIUM!"

**-Chocolate time~!-**

So, Thx soooo much to **Xou** again, who never fails to give me good Switzerland x other nation suggestions. Vous êtes très impressionante! Keep those crack pairings coming, guys! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	23. Bathroom Break

The meeting was boring as usual. America (last he knew) was rambling on about some robot or other, Switzerland was giving Japan a lecture on how it was important to speak his mind, and his fellow Nordics had started a game of cards.

Sweden hid a yawn behind his hand and looked down at his notes. He had dutifully taken his requirement and was just about to ask to leave when something nudged his shoe. A glare quietly set on his face as he furtively flicked the tablecloth up to spot the intruder, thinking it was Sealand trying to worm his way into another World Conference. His eyes widened with shock as he registered bright blue eyes behind glasses.

America. America was underneath the table at the World Conference, staring up at him, a playful smile on his face. Sweden was too shocked to say anything. The Swede tried to move back his chair, but the grip the American had on the chair legs stopped him dead in his tracks. "Wh't are yoo doi'g?" Sweden harshly whispered. The American just shook his head and propped his elbows up onto the Swede's legs. If Sweden realized he was free to scoot back in the chair, he would've, but he wasn't focused on that right now.

No, he was focused on the fact that the American's fingers were moving down south, tracing circles on the inside of his thighs. He felt a blush stain his face and the room suddenly felt too hot. He felt his stomach lurch and raised his hand. "Yes, Sweden?" England asked. "Cou'd Ah use th' b'throom?" he asked uncertainly. England nodded his approval and Sweden shot out of his seat like a rocket, positively racing down the halls to make it to the bathroom.

He stayed in that stall for what seemed like forever, asking himself the one question over and over again.

"_Why had he liked it so much?"_

**-Woo-hoo~ Well, America…-**

**:**3 Well, I honestly didn't expect to be writing this, but I ended up doing it! Hope you liked it and please review if you want to! Thanks to **t **for the suggestion! I will try to do Greece x Canada next!

**Hasta la Pasta!**


	24. Snowflakes

It was snowing.

Canada looked upwards at the sky, looking at the softly falling snowflakes. They were beautiful. The Canadian shivered, wrapping his paper- thin jacket around him even tighter. Usually he wore his maple leaf sweater, but today he had opted for the stylish jacket France had gotten him that year he was actually remembered. Good times, good times.

He rubbed his hands together furiously, his breath coming out in puffs of white mist. Kumajirou trotted alongside him ,eager to get back to his home and eat dinner. Canada scooped the bear up in his arms, and said animal snuggled there, happy that he didn't have to walk anymore on the treacherous ground, covered in carefully concealed ice below the seemingly innocent substance called snow. Very carefully concealed. All of a sudden, Canada's boot skidded on the ice, and he started to fall backwards at an alarming rate. That is, until someone caught him.

The Canadian could hear something clatter to the ground belonging to his rescuer, but was too shocked to care. Someone had seen him and caught him. "Are you alright?" a soft but concerned voice asked him. "Y-yes." Canada stuttered, and turned to look at the speaker. It was all he could do to not gape. Picking up a long wooden cross from the ground, was Greece. Greece of all nations, rescued him. The guy couldn't keep himself awake for the meetings but he could save Canada from a fall onto the ice? Whoa.

Greece touched Canada's hands. "They're cold." the Mediterranean nation mused, unconsciously enveloping the soft hands with his own rough ones. Canada sighed contentedly. The Grecian's asking was blisteringly hot, and it warmed up his hands considerably. "Canada? You feel warm, is everything ok?"

"I'm fine, Greece. Everything's okay. Thank you. Excuse me, I have to go." Canada said, pulling his hands back.

Greece watched the Canadian go, the words still on the tip of his tongue.

"Can't you see I love you?"

**-AWWWZ. -**

Aww, Canada, why'd you go so soon! Anyways, hope you liked it. Dedicated to **thedragonballbabe **for requesting this pairing. To those who have suggested pairings, THANK YOU. I will get to them soon, that's a promise! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	25. Saturdays

**-Dedicated to AnaMachado-**

Saturdays really were the best.

Spain would wake up after a long, content sleep to his henchman Romano demanding breakfast, preferably jumping on him to get him up. After he fixed breakfast for the little Italian, together they would go to harvest tomatoes out back until the afternoon, when they'd break for lunch, usually a delicious soup or pasta. After that Romano had his siesta time and Spain sometimes joined him depending on how energetic he felt that particular day. If not, he would hike back out to his beloved tomatoes and wait for his young companion.

The tomato harvesting done, the two would go back to their house, and Romano would make dinner if he was in a good mood, which was usually after a long day's work, and would retire to bed early. Not Spain. He stayed up.

What for?

Simple. Her. Often coming after dark, she'd quietly steal into the house, where Spain would be waiting for her. Her cheeks would be flushed, that long wavy brown hair streaming behind her like a curtain, that orange flower bouncing along with the movement of the hair, often pulled back in a white and green bandanna, her matching dress fluttering and rustling on her frame. She'd sneak up behind him and he'd pretend not to see her until she was just about to (try to) scare him to high heaven. He'd whip around, hoist her on top of his lap and kiss her silly.

Which he was doing right now. She let out a faint giggle and pressed her lips against his sweetly, expecting him to be the one to deepen it, and he happily obliged. His long fingers tangled in that sweet-smelling hair of hers and she'd sigh, knotting her own fingers into his curls. He smiled against her lips.

Saturdays were really the best. Hungary made them so.

**-BUONO TOMATO!-**

:D I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO DOING IT! Been meaning to do this for a while. Please review if you want to, and keep requesting if you'd like!

**Hasta la Pasta! **


	26. Gone With the Wind

She had not looked back when she left.

He couldn't fathom why he had snapped. He had faded into the shadow of having someone with him again. The memories hurt. That outstretched hand by the one person he had trusted, turn to grasp his. That comforting hand on his shoulder whenever he was down.

He had just replaced her image with England's for the shortest moment and she was now gone. He had told her to not look back, she wouldn't see him crying like she would undoubtedly be. That tough façade she put up in front of everyone was really just to deal with the idiots that harassed her. Prussia. Turkey. Them. And now he had added himself to the list. He clutched his head in his hands, recalling the fright in her eyes and remembered taking pleasure in her fear.

He was despicable. He knew it. He weighed the revolver in his hand, jokingly placing it to his temple, miming the action he knew he would never be strong enough to actually do. She'd been there, a caring glance thrown his way, despite his protests that he was all right.

He hadn't been. With her love, he once again became strong. Now she was gone.

The message sunk into his brain.

**Hungary was gone. It was all because of him.**

America clutched the gun in his hand and tried to tell himself his heart wasn't breaking.

No use though. He had never been good at lying to himself.

In a burst of adrenaline, he pulled the trigger.

Blackness.

Perfect.

**-O,O Dark.-**

I'm sorry this was so dark. I just was listening to some sad songs, and this paring popped up. Hope you enjoyed it, no matter how dark it was. _Please review if you want to_!

**Hasta la Pasta! **


	27. Hamburger

Romano eyed the hamburger on the table. Just _sitting_ there in its greasy splendor, the crisp lettuce and melted cheese poking through the bun, said bun toasted.

Disgusting.

A McDonald's coke stood alongside it, the fizz making a faint hissing sound as it met the air. The Italian cautiously poked it, as if expecting it to move on its own, and he frowned. He looked to the left. He turned his head, his curl bobbing in unison, to the right, making sure no one was around to see what he was about to do. When he was certain no one was there, he hurriedly grabbed the burger and took a huge bite. The different tastes exploded in the cavern of his mouth, making him close his eyes in relish. He licked his lips, savoring the first great taste of the meal. He started in on the fries next, cramming the golden crunchiness into his mouth.

Funny, though. He called Germany "Potato-Bastard", but he himself ate them too… oh well. He licked his fingers free of the salt, and started in on the drink, slowly draining the soda.

America watched through the video camera he had set up in Romano's room. He had tissues stopped up his nose to stop the nosebleed he had when he saw the cute but grouchy Italian grab the burger. He envied that burger. Grrr. He shot up from his chair, and walked down the hallway towards Romano's room. Maybe his lips would taste like hamburger too…only one way to find out!

**-Ohonhonhonhon X3-**

Finally the Romerica I promised! I love all my faithful reviewers who stick with this story of random craptastic pairings! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	28. The Wonderful Sounds

Korea heard them before he saw them.

The tell-tale "boing - boing" sounds her beautiful breasts made as she walked down the hall. He frowned and titled his head to one side. Something was very wrong, he decided. Sure, the sounds were loud enough to be heard…but they were muffled. He now frowned and got up from his seat, determined to see what stopped the glorious sounds of Ukraine. He became his usual happy-go-lucky self when he saw the Ukrainian.

He leaped at her.

She only had a moment to give a strangled yelp before being tackled by the energetic Korean. His hands instinctively clasped around her chest, fondling her land masses, a goofy smile on his face. She gave a slight smile. Korea. She should have known. She didn't mind it when he groped her now, she had gotten used to it. She heard his muffled voice ask her a question.

"Ukraine…why doesn't your chest make such wonderful sounds now~ da-ze?" the hyper country inquired, his eyes peeking up to look at hers. She grimaced. "Ummm, tough times?" she replied, sucking in another breath, her shirtfront tightening. He frowned and then wrapped his arms around her entire frame. "It's ok. I'm here~ da-ze." he murmured reassuringly, and she relaxed into the hug.

He pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her eyelid, catching a salty tear that had come out. She felt her face heat up immediately, red coloring blooming on her face like a rose. "Korea," she hesitantly asked. "What are you doin-mmm." She was silenced quickly by a pair of lips pressing against hers. Korea smiled against the shocked Ukrainian's lips.

His beloved had her bounce back.

**-Boing- Boing! XD- **

HALLO. It took me way longer than anticipated to write this….J Anyways. You know the drill, please review if you want to! :D

Hasta la Pasta!


	29. 2:46 PM, Austria's House

Normally at 2: 46, Austria would be in his music room playing Chopin, or sneaking a slice of cake. Of course, that was normally. Sometimes Prussia, the ever-annoying nuisance would pay him a visit. Or Hungary would grace him with her company.

That was normal.

What was not normal was the fact that his boyfriend, Hong Kong, was snuggled up against him, taking a much-needed nap. The Austrian rhythmically stroked the Asian's hair, noticing how the rich brown color contrasted with his amber-like eyes. He shifted his position slightly, and lifted the sleeper into his lap, Hong-Kong's head falling softly against Austria's chest, just underneath the sophisticated nation's chin. It was very peaceful. Austria wound his arms around his boyfriend's frame, and nodded off to sleep.

Hong Kong woke up against his boyfriend. Not that he minded, it was just surprising. He took a peek at Austria's face. The nation was sleeping. Must have dozed off. Hong Kong thought about getting up…and then snuggled deeper into his boyfriend.

A few more minutes couldn't hurt, could it?

**-Awwz. Now I'm tired.. *snuggles the both of them*-**

For some reason, I love this couple. I really do love it. Like, I want to ship it. :D Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	30. Favorite Song

Roderich had long since accepted that he would never be able to play his instruments again. Not his grand piano, not his cherished violin.

Nothing.

Nein.

Nyet.

Non.

Negative.

He had no will to live after the accident that took his talents. Never again would he be Roderich Edelstein, teenage musical prodigy. Just Roderich Edelstein, top student, broken dreams, broken fingers. He stopped eating. He wouldn't answer the calls from his worried ex, Elizabeta, or the fool who was responsible for the whole thing. That infuriating albino who called himself Prussian. Moron.

There was only one thing that gave him comfort. The boy he had hardly spoken to the whole year came to his hospital room and cheered him up when he was down. Sleepy, but liked seeing the delight on the Austrian's face when he smuggled one of his cats through the watchful eyes of the nurses, just looking for an excuse to through the Grecian out.

Today was a bad day. When the Grecian had arrived, Roderich was being physically held down by nurses while a doctor injected him with a calming drug. Heracles had quietly stood off to the side until the staff had all left, and then sat down next to Roderich.

He took the limp Austrian's hand in his own and pressed a kiss to the soft skin.

"You'll always be my favorite song." he whispered, but knew that the boy in the hospital bed couldn't hear him.

**-Just had to do it transition-**

I got this idea as I was listening to piano-music of all things, *wink, wink* But yeah, depressing, but hope you liked it!

Hasta la Pasta!


	31. Computers

**(WARNING**-If you like semi-dirty stuff, READ ON. IF NOT….read anyways.)

**-Dedicated to Scissorsroid Luka and my best friend ever, A-Onee-Chan , who wanted something sexy-**

"Le-let me go!" Estonia stuttered, trying to push himself away from his attacker. France just smirked and assaulted the Estonian's mouth with his own.

The experienced Frenchman skillfully wove a hand in Estonia's blond hair, yanking it back so he could poke his tongue through his victim's lips. Estonia opened his mouth to protest, and France had his advantage. Their tongues were locked in a battle for dominance, and France knew the Estonian was going to cave.

Sure enough, Estonia's arms fastened around France's neck, pulling himself to the Frenchman. France's naughty hand sneaked downwards, grabbing the Estonian's length, squeezing the life out of the thing. Estonia moaned into the kiss, and France slammed him into the wall behind him, still gripping Estonia, and then proceeded to move downwards into Estonia's neck, biting and sucking the skin until a large purple bruise made its way onto the smooth skin. Estonia murmured something that France didn't quite hear.

"Repeat please, mon cher, I didn't hear you."

"I said, okay, you win, I'll fix your stupid computer!"

France smirked against the skin and pulled back.

He always won.

**-*nosebleed, Karin-style*-**

WOOT! I'M FEELING A LITTLE YAOI COMING ON! :DDD Anyways, hope you liked it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	32. Pineapple Ice Cream

**"It's not good to do that, you know."** a clear voice rang out from behind him. Cuba turned around, expecting that annoying American again, but was stunned when he saw who it really was.

Hungary.

She walked over to him, where he was, sitting on that bridge, and pried the cigar from his hands. He hadn't done it unconsciously. He knew what he was doing. Stress had finally taken it's toll on the nation, so he shoved that lit cigarette against his arm until the flesh was raw.

She examined it for a moment, then wound back her arm and tossed it over the bridge as hard as she could. He started to protest, but Hungary had a thing in her hands that made him stop dead in his tracks.

She had ice-cream. Not just ANY ice cream, but PINEAPPLE ice-cream. He did love his pineapple ice-cream. Cuba warily eyed her, and she held it out. "Take it. You look like you need it more than I do. I don't even like the stuff."

Cuba chuckled, something he hadn't done in months. She was just too damn adorable. She frowned.

"What?"

"You're pretty cute for a frying-pan maniac."

Cuba then was tossed over the bridge, the Hungarian laughing as she threw him over.

**-It's raining, it's pouring, the crack list is growing….-**

Got the pairing idea from one of my awesome reviewers, Scissorsroid Luka. YOU ARE PRUSSIA=LEVEL AWESOME.

Hasta la Pasta!


	33. Maples Always Win

**-Dedicated to TheUnheardSoul23-**

"Maple."

"Tomato."

"MA-PLE."

"TO-MA-TO."

Canada glared at his Italian boyfriend from across the kitchen island, where a huge stack of pancakes were laying on a porcelain plate, crispy and golden. Romano glared right back at the Canadian's face, secretly admiring how cute the Northern nation looked when he was pouting. Kumajirou, who was passing through the kitchen on the way to his favorite napping place, wondered why they couldn't just divide the stack between them and put whatever toppings they liked on the breakfast food.

Romano, on impulse leaned over the kitchen island to plant a rough kiss on his boyfriend's lips. "Tomato." he murmured against Canada's mouth. Canada laughed. So, THAT was the way it was going to work. Breaking the kiss, he walked over to the other side of the island where Romano was standing, and pinned him against the counter, kissing him sweetly, but pressing their hips together seductively. Romano bit back a groan as Canada took over, hands knotting in each other's hair, a smooth hand sneaking under the brim of Romano's shirt to caress his chest.

"Maple." Canada said firmly, twisting Romano's nipple lightly.

"Fine." Romano said, giving in to the Canadian's ways.

"Besides, tomato on pancake is just disgusting." the Canadian said, turning to reach for the maple syrup. Romano retaliated by pinching the Canadian's butt hard.

"Is not."

**-O/O-**

*Blushes* Oh Canada, you part-British part-French awesomeness. :D Hope you liked it, please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	34. Red River

The first slice brought blood and a substantial amount of pain.

She just looked at her arm, dazed for a second at the sight of the red liquid. She picked up the knife to make the second cut, already estimating how much time she had left. This time she drew the blade against her collarbone, the thin red streams racing down her shirtfront, dying the clean white cloth stretched across her insanely large breasts a ruby red. She added a few more gashes to her torso and legs and then looked outside from her place in the kitchen.

She pictured him walking through the snow up to the back door of her house and finding the spare key under the loose brick. She imagined his facial features contorting in sheer horror at the sight of her, bled out on the kitchen floor. She could already feel the life rushing out of her.

What did it matter anyways? He had left her, right? It was he who had found that cute Finnish boy to settle down with, correct? It was he who told her he didn't want her anymore.

She slumped to the floor, woozy, and spent her last remaining moments thinking of him.

His slight smile that meant he was happy.

His flaxen hair that shone in the winter sun.

His eyes that normally scared people into screaming, hidden behind wire glasses.

The way he would hold her close, fragile, as if she could break at any second, but also possessively, as if afraid she might run away from him if he let her go.

Yekaterina "Katyusha" Braginskaya, the beautiful Ukrainian, ever so slowly, closed her deep blue eyes for the last time before being put in the hands of death.

"Su-San? Su-san, are you feeling well?" a Finnish man who looked like a boy, asked his partner. Said partner, a Swede, strong, tall, flaxen-haired, by the name of Berwald, just shook his head and clutched his chest, nails digging into the skin above his heart. A heart-breaking ache washed through him.

Why had that feeling come?

Why did it feel like he was dying inside?

Why could he only think of his beloved Katyusha?

**-*sniff sniff*-**

D: WHY KAT? WHYYYYY? Anyways, hope you enjoyed this Suicidal!Ukraine x Sweden thing, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	35. Change

Lovino couldn't believe how much everything's changed since he'd left.

His baby brother, Feliciano, got himself a pretty-boy German potato-bastard for a boyfriend.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

His old caretaker, a Spaniard named Antonio, married the Belgian girl, Emma, who ran "Waffle House", the best damn waffle place in the history of best damn waffle places.

That's how good it was.

His brother's friends Elizabeta and Roderich had gotten married and raised a family full of musical-frying-pan wielding-geniuses.

He could hear the piano music. Chopin. Gilbert must have irritated Roderich again. A loud thwack followed.

Elizabeta had found the annoying Prussian.

His buddy, Sadiq had fallen for a quiet Egyptian man, whose name he never had actually learned.

No comment.

Most of all, he couldn't believe how much a certain Icelander by the name of Emil, had changed.

The same white-haired 17-year old who practically bawled his eyes out when he was leaving, was now a supposedly engaged man to a girl from Seychelles.

Angelique, he thought she was called.

_"Bitch."_ he thought bitterly to himself.

Why had Emil moved on?

Did Emil not like him anymore?

A thousand questions raced through his mind, but one question remained.

"Do you even love me?" the Italian's voice asked the empty air.

"If I didn't, why would I be here?" a familiar couldn't-care-less voice asked in return.

Lovino turned around.

There was Emil. The familiar violet-eyed teen stood there, hands in pockets, a blush the size of Mount Vesuvius on his face.

But the Icelander was smiling at him.

Lovino took one look at him and kissed him. And kissed him.

Emil noticed something. The Italian's lips still tasted of tomato.

He guessed some things never changed, and let himself kiss back.

**-….Then they lived happily ever after!-**

I hope you guys liked this chapter…because I felt that I didn't do a very good job with it. Anyways, this little thing is dedicated to **Aunsa. **You are epic. Please review if you want to!

**Hasta la Pasta! **


	36. Sale Day

"Poland, what's taking you so long? The sale is going to sell out by the time we get there!" Taiwan called to her Polish fashion fiend of a friend as she entered said Pole's house. "Like, just a minute!" she heard Poland call back to her. She frowned.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

She had felt this sense of dread only once before, when Korea had raided her closet, masqueraded as her, and seized most of the nations' vital regions in the name of Taiwan. No one quite thought of the Korean nation the same as before.

Poland's voice had been somewhat…masculine. In a heartbeat she was sprinting up the stairs and hammering on her best friend's bedroom door. "Poland? Poland, are you okay? Are you sick? We don't have to go if you don't want to, you know!" The bedroom door opened and a very confused Poland stepped out.

You know how most people do a double-take? Taiwan did a freaking twelve-take. Poland was dressed in boy clothes. Boy. As in male. Not female. Not girly at all.

"Hey Mei, like, what's wrong? You look like you've like seen a ghost! Or, like, Russia!" Poland exclaimed in that masculine voice of his. Was it just her or had he grown taller and leaner, and what the crap was with his pants?

….

Never mind.

"Poland, you're a man! I mean, I knew you were a man, but you look manly!" Taiwan stuttered, still looking at . He blushed. "Poland….is everything okay?" Taiwan said, her voice shaking with suppressed giggles. He turned around and made to go back into his room. She latched onto his frame and sent both of them falling to the ground.

"I didn't, like, want you to see me like this." Poland mumbled into Taiwan's hair. "Why not, silly?" she asked, giving him a big hug.

"Then I'd have to, like, do this, and you'd totally hate me." Before she could ask what, he had titled her head upward, and kissed her.

"Do you still want to go to that sale?" she murmured against his lips as they kissed.

"Like, naw, their clothes are super tacky anyways." he said, and pinned her to the ground to kiss her more

**-Like, it's totally the end!-**

Hey everybody! Hope you enjoyed this, and it's dedicated to** Becky Rose**. Love all the pairings you suggested. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	37. Memory

-Dedicated to **moo-**

"Look at me! Look at her! How can you leave us behind? Eduard, look at me!" Sadiq frantically exclaimed, clutching his husband's hand tighter and tighter as the life in the Estonian's eyes grew dimmer. "Where….where is she? Where's Katariina*****?" the Estonian asked, his breathing becoming labored. Sadiq deposited their 3-year old daughter into the arms of her "mother", laying there in the hospital bed, dying.

The little girls blonde curls bounced against her shoulders as she snuggled into her mama. "Mama sick?" she asked, her brown eyes widening in fright. "Jah, sweetheart." Eduard said, holding his daughter close to his body in his final minutes. Sadiq, still clutching his beloved's hand, looked over to where their newest son lay in the bassinet. "Do you want me to bring Karamat*?" the Turkish man asked, his voice trembling with raw emotion. The Estonian gave a faint nod, and turned to his wonderful little girl.

"Mama will get better, right?" his beautiful daughter inquired, tilting her head to the side cutely. "No, Katariina. Mama's….Mama's going away soon. When I do, you need to be the best… big sister to your brother, and the best daughter… in the world to Papa, alright?" the Estonian mother told his little girl, deftly wiping a tear from her face. Katariina nodded solemnly, and buried her face into her mama's hospital gown. Sadiq returned with Karamat. The baby boy was placed in Eduard's arms.

"Karamat? This is… your mama. I can already tell…what a handsome…intelligent…amazing young man you'll be. Never…forget your mama, promise?" the Estonian murmured to his son. Sadiq wrapped his arms around him for one last time before the Estonian's feeble grip on his back fell slack. As if on cue, Karamat started crying, and after a minute passed, Katariina followed suit.

**-Graveyard transition-**

Sadiq felt the silent tears flowing down his cheeks as the coffin was lowered into the ground. He held Karamat in his arms, and Katariina was holding tightly onto his pants leg.

The Turkish man raised his head.

He thought he could hear the Estonian's voice, but then again, maybe it had just been an memory.

**-Holy crap…I'm crying.-**

BWAH! H-hope you enjoyed it. The inspiration for this is the song "I hope you dance." Listen to it as you read this, and you will probably end up crying. Please review if you want to!

**Katariina - Estonian girl name for "Pure" **

**Karamat- Turkish name for "Miracle" **

Hasta la Pasta!


	38. Scent

Egypt loved days like this, though he'd never show it.

Those days when Japan would get fed up with Greece and Turkey fighting over him like he was some prize to be won. Egypt liked the nation's company. Usually, no one bothered with him unless they wanted to conquer him. It was fine that way…right?

Today was one of those days. Egypt listened to Japan rant for a while before embracing him, effectively cutting of any form of ranting. Japan leaned into the embrace, wrapping his own arms around Egypt's slender form. Egypt held him close and tight, burying his face into Japan's hair, inhaling the scent of Chrysanthemums. The aroma made him smile slightly. It fit Japan. He was delicate and much like a flower. It was a scent that was hard to pull off when a nation's been through so many troubles. Egypt would know. His signature scent, sand, that is, was replacing the odor of death and the metallic scent of blood.

They would stay like that for a while before Japan's manners caught up with his actions, and the Japanese nation would apologize profusely, but then Egypt would kiss him softly, and reassure Japan that it was perfectly alright.

Because it was.

**-IT"S SO FLUFFY!-**

Hope you enjoyed it, even if it was super short, and dedicated to Scissorsroid Luka. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	39. Superman Underpants

Alfred F. Jones, a.k.a America, was in his undies.

…Again.

He stared at the weight scale, not believing what he saw. No way in hell could he be that fat! He worked out! He ate healthily…somewhat…but weren't you supposed to eat a lot at his physical age? He groaned in dissatisfaction, and felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle, a face pressing itself into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Who?

"Matt?" he asked tentatively. The American then heard the laugh, and moaned in pleasure as the not-so-mysterious-anymore person sank his teeth into the space where his head had been not moments ago. "Kesesesese~ Me, your awesome boyfriend, has decided to grace you with his awesome presence today!" Gilbert Bellischmidt, a.k.a Prussia, murmured seductively into his ear.

Alfred rolled his sky-blue eyes and turned around in Prussia's arms so he could plant a long, lingering kiss on said Prussian. Gilbert's hand went in two different directions. One hand dipped down to clutch the American's (already) hard member, while the other grabbed Alfred's chin, forcing him to deepen the kiss. Alfred's hands knotted themselves in Gilbert's snow-white hair.

Alfred was so into the kiss, he didn't notice Gilbert's naughty hand snaking through the brim of his superman underpants.

**-Prumerica, anyone?-**

HALLO. Hope you liked this semi-dirty chapter, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	40. Video Games

-Dedicated to **pOuJyGy**: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! xD-

Pale hands attacked the remote's buttons furiously.

"Yeah, just like that China! Oh, you'll be a pro in no time!" a child's voice shrieked at the oriental feminine man. China stole a glance at Sealand, still immersed in the video-game America had given to him.

The micro-nation was happily blasting an avatar (who looked like England) off his unicorn and watching him fall out into the depths of outer space. China was busy trying to ward off the swarm of England-avatars who were storming through the galaxy on screen to attack the dragon China-avatar was riding.

America had a strange sense of fun, that's certain. The Chinese nation gave a loud victory cry, springing to his feet as the England-like avatars were blasted off the dragon into the chasm containing the virtual corpses of England-avatars. China froze, embarrassment flooding his features as Sealand looked at him.

Weirdly.

The Chinese nation sat down once more on the couch and started playing again. Not 5 minutes had passed when Sealand blew up the remaining England-avatars, and let out a louder "WHOOP!" than China had. "You're very skilled at this game ~aru. Don't you read, or play outside?" China asked, genuinely curious.

Sealand's face flushed red with anger. China scooted backwards on the sofa.

"I do too read! And play with Hanatamago outside! I spend half my life in water on a fort that someone abandoned! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE ABANDONED BY THE ONLY PERSON WHO CARED ABOUT YOU?" the child screamed at him, throwing the controller down on the couch, and rushing off down a hallway.

China carefully set down his controller, then rushed after the smaller boy. China found him in his bedroom, on his bed, the pale face buried in a navy-blue pillowcase, the unmistakable sounds on sobbing raining down on China's ears. The older nation sighed and walked over to the little boy's bed, sat down on it, and ran his hand through Sealand's ash-blond hair.

"I know exactly how you feel~ aru. Japan abandoned me a long time ago ~ aru. It hurts, doesn't it, aru?" The little boy nodded into his pillow. China smiled gently and continued stroking the younger boy's hair, feeling the salt, sweat, and sun baked into the coarse strands. "Well, that's okay, aru. We'll be strong, won't we ~aru?" Again, the little boy nodded at the older nation's words, regaining the tiniest feelings of hope that someone actually cared about him again.

"I'll go make you some tea~ aru." The little nation winced. The last time he had England's tea… well…let's just say that it wasn't pretty, alright? China stifled a laugh. "None of that crap England makes, right?" Sealand propped himself up on his elbows, and turned around.

"Say… why do you like me? To everyone I'm just a hindrance rather than help."

China smiled again.

"You remind me of someone I used to know. And that someone was no hindrance."

Sealand grinned.

Someone cared about him.

**-HA! EAT YOUR HEART OUT WITH A SPOON!-**

Ha. HAHAHA. Well, hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	41. Stripper Clubs

I'm awesome. That's a known fact. Some people as awesome as me don't get surprised.

You guessed it, I'm the awesome Prussia.

That night, when my awesome buddies Spain and France took me to one of the stripper clubs that we frequented, I never expected to see HIM there.

I have only three times in my entire life, been so surprised I couldn't awesomely speak.

The first was when Hungary turned me down. I MEAN, WHO WOULD TURN THE AWESOME ME DOWN? ARE THEY CRAZY!

The second was when I got a boner from looking at Liechtenstein. Really, she isn't even that awesome. Very sweet, yes. Totally kick-ass with a gun, yes. But just not so awesome.

And the third and final time was when I saw Iceland, grinding a metal pole for an audience at a stripper club.

For a minute, all of the words unawesomely escaped me. **ICELAND.**

**I-C-E-L-A-N-D.**

_Iceland._

Was there.

Awesomely grinding a metal pole, thigh high-hooker boots with spike-heels, a tight white corset, and heaven-light bright when you looked at them under the pulsing lights. He pranced around the stage arrogantly, peering down at us like we were unawesome scum, which in a way, we all were, except me, because I'M AWESOME. He went down into the splits, giving a subtle wink to the audience, grazing his tongue against his lips, leaving a thin trail of saliva across his lips.

France and Spain didn't notice who it was….hmm, maybe this was my own awesome little secret….

It was so awesomely hot. I felt something in my pants.

Hmm, this club was good…maybe I should make an awesome reservation…uh oh, unawesome premature ejaculation!

How was I gonna awesomely get out of this one?

**-What the crap did I just write? O_O-**

Well…um…hope you enjoyed this weird little thing…I honestly have no clue what I write sometime. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	42. Sick

-**Dedicated to Xou-**

"Yes, no doubt about it, you're sick." Germany told Latvia, taking his black-gloved hand of the Latvian's forehead.

Latvia shook his head, trying foolishly to shake the fever from him, and made a gesture to get up. Germany sensed this and gently pushed the Baltic nation back onto the bed, tucking the comforter under his chin, like he'd do to Italy sometimes when said Italian couldn't sleep. "B-but Mr. Russia will….he'll-" Latvia stuttered, intimidated by the German's closeness. "Don't you worry about that arschloch. You just stay put in bed. I'll let you get some rest." Germany sighed, already standing up. Latvia's eyes widened. With one fluid motion that surprised them both, Latvia lurched forwards, gripping the back of Germany's shirt.

"P-p-please stay with me." the youngest Baltic quietly asked, his grip like iron on Germany's shirt tightening. Germany slightly smiled and sat down.

"Anything for you, mein Prinz."

**-Well.-**

Aww. Latvia's sick. Yours truly is sick herself, that's why I haven't updated in a couple days. I just thought this was a cute pairing, and…this happened. Hey… it just occurred to me that I've done Germany x Lithuania and Germany x Lativa. Maybe some Germany x Estonia in the future? Hopefully you liked it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	43. Love Me, Hate Me

Stop.

Just stop. I don't deserve this kindness.

Don't come near! I told you already, don't come closer! No, Amer-I mean Canada!

Nyet, I love brother! I don't love you!

"Do you really love Russia?" you say, that usually quiet voice so strong, so sincere.

I do.

I love him, and we'll get married someday, you just wait and see!

Don't look at me like that, it's true!

Why do you even bother with me?

You have Ukraine!

You have France!

You have America!

You have Cuba!

You have the Netherlands and Belgium!

When have I ever had I had the family you had? The friends? I had to survive with my crybaby of an older sister and my brother…my dear sweet Vanya.

He treated me right. He loved me.

What happened?

And as for friends…I never had them, nor do I want them.

Useless things.

All they ever do is pretend to be there for you, and then when you decide to trust them, they stab you in the back.

You're not like that, you say?

Really, Canada? Really, _Matthew? _

Nyet. I admit, you're not.

_I hate you._

_***O***_

" Love you too, Natalya." Canada said, giving them Belarusian a lingering kiss, arms settling around her waist. And for once, she didn't try to get away.

_-O-O-_

HELLO DAHLINGS! Sorry I haven't uploaded for a couple days, CHRISTMAS IS ALMOST HERE! I'll be uploading a Germany x Estonia soon… :DDD Hope you enjoyed it, sorry if it was confusing, and please review if you want to.

_OH! WAIT A SECOND. _

I've recently read a Canada x Belarus fic, titled "Our love, Forbidden", and I feel it deserves recognition. Xou, you're right, it was amazingly cute and beautifully written.

Hasta la Pasta!


	44. Star

"Little higher….perfect!" Eduard's clear voice rang out as they placed the star on top of the Christmas tree, "they" being a certain blond haired, blue-eyed German, and the Estonian who happened to be his loving boyfriend, perched on the German's shoulder.

Why, you ask? Simple.

Eduard was too short to put the star up on the tree, and god damn it, Eduard had wanted to put it on. So being the amazing boyfriend he was, Ludwig had set the Estonian on his shoulder to be able to put up the ornament. Ludwig carefully deposited the Estonian back onto the hardwood floor, smiling as his boyfriend gave his hand a small squeeze. It wasn't much, but it showed that his Estonian cared.

Ludwig gazed at the beautiful tree, complete with twinkling lights, festive garlands, and a pile of presents underneath. It looked like home. He sat back on the couch, pulling the Estonian down with him. Ludwig placed said Estonian onto his lap and embraced the bespectacled man. Eduard closed his eyes in delight, leaning into Ludwig's arms.

"Frohe Weihnachten, Liebe."

"Häid jõule,kallike."

**-And then they baked cookies!-**

Hey! MY DEAR REVIEWERS. URGENT MESSAGE.

I want to do a Christmas themed Crack Couples story, and it is up to YOU to provide said couples. Can be characters that haven't been personified yet, whatever, but I NEED YOUR CRACK PARINGS PRONTO. Okay? :D Hope you enjoyed it, and hey-Here's the Germany x Estonia fic I promised, huh? Please review if you want to.

Hasta la Pasta!

P.S-

"Frohe Weihnachten, Liebe." = German for Merry Christmas, love.

"Häid jõule,kallike."= Estonian for "Merry Christmas, darling."

AWWZ! 3


	45. Mistletoe

Hey, jerk!

Yes, you, Sweden.

Where are you? You were supposed to be home long ago.

No, I was not worried, don't say things like that! Don't look down on me! Why would I be worried about you? Certainly not because I'm your brother.

Sweden…why did you go to Finland's? Don't use that excuse that you were worried about him again. We both know that underneath that behind that cuteness is an eagle-eyed sniper whose people made alcohol-bombs infamous. I'm perfectly sure that he could handle a night on a sleigh.

Don't hug me, jerk! I don't need your pity.

I know you dislike me! I know how much trouble you think I am! I know-mmph.

Your lips taste cold Sweden…exactly how long were you out in that snow? A hour, maybe two? Wait…why are you kissing me?

"B'cause Ah l've yoo. L'donia. B'cause I l've yoo. And a'bove yoo was m'stletoe." Sweden murmured against Ladonia's lips. Ladonia just sighed and made a mental note to take down the mistletoe.

**-Well, that's some Ladonia/Sweden fanseverice taken care of!-**

Hiya! Here's the first in a hopefully long-line of Christmas crack parings. Dedicated to AnaMachado! Hope you enjoyed, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	46. Chocolate Pancakes

"Actually, Chocolate with pancakes don't taste that bad." Switzerland thought as he chewed his way through another stack of his Canada's pancakes. As if reading his thoughts, Canada turned to him, a slightly smug smile on the Canadian's lips. "I told you so, eh?"

Switzerland blushed. God, did his boyfriend have to be dominating at the breakfast table?

Yes, yes he did.

The Swiss teen scowled, knowing his face that was already a glowing red heated up to Rudolph's nose red, and buried his face in his arms, the chocolate pancakes forgotten.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset!" Canada exclaimed, gathering the teen into his arms in a warm embrace. "I know…" Switzerland began, but words escaped him when his loving boyfriend's lips tenderly pressed against his own. Canada's lips were so warm, and so inviting. Canada flicked his tongue across the bottom of Switzerland's lips, asking for entrance. Switzerland sighed, and opened his mouth. Immediately, Switzerland took control, not allowing himself to succumb to the Canadian's charms and French ways.

France spied on the two from the large window behind them, Hungary next to him, continuously taking photogaphs, and squealing like a 4-year old Justin Bieber fan. He shushed her, and together they watched in relish.

**-:DD-**

Hey, just to say, I'm not bashing Justin Bieber. :D Hope you enjoyed it, and yeah, not exactly Christmas-y, not exactly very good, but it's something! J Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	47. Christmas Presents

Russia sighed.

It was Christmas, and sure it had been a great day. He'd gotten nice gifts from the Baltic trio, his sisters, the allies…almost everyone except him.

He could see why Sweden would hate him, I mean, Russia had taken over Finland a long time ago, and in getting his "w'fe" back, Sweden had unceremoniously beat the hell out of him. Ouch. Russia could STILL feel the bruises.

However, it was Christmas, and usually all the nations got along amazingly well. Not he and Sweden though. The minute the Swede had caught sight of Russia he had turned on his heel and went somewhere else to get away from the Eurasian nation. Russia frowned.

Why was it so hard to get along? He wanted to get along well with everyone, he really did, but violence could get so…fun at times, and it was hard to stop once you've started. Russia closed the door to his bedroom and flicked on the light switch.

And stopped.

There, sitting in his bedroom, was a giant box. Wrapped up in snowflake-patterned paper, with a cute little sticker plastered on top of the whole thing. He glanced at it.

_"Dear Russia,_

_Have fun with your present!_

_Love, Hungary"_

He ever so carefully cut the bindings on the huge package, and opened it. There, handcuffed, was a completely, and utterly, stark-naked Sweden. By the looks of the bruise on the side of his head, he had fallen victim to Hungary's frying pan.

And oooh_, hello _there! You must be Malmo.

Perfect. Just lying there, inside his box, unconscious.

Beautiful.

Russia smirked, and started to undo the clasp on his belt.

**-Ohonhonhon-**

Sweden couldn't walk straight for two weeks after that.

It had been a very, very merry Christmas, indeed.

**-Teehee, It's Christmas!-**

Hello! MERRY CHRISTMAS, PEOPLE AROUND THE EARTH. Finland came to my house last night! :D yayz! Hope you enjoyed this, and if you want to know where Malmo is, just pull up Sweden maps on Google…hehehe. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	48. Hands

"Victoria? Victoria, where are you?" Toris called. The Lithuanian boy had been sent to retrieve his Seychellois classmate who had vanished after recess. And of course, he being the good student, was sent to fetch her.

Ah, the trials of 5th grade.

"Victoria, we need to go back to class! Ms. Hedevary wants everyone inside now, come on!" the small boy called to the seemingly empty space. Then, down from above, a voice reluctantly answered.

"Are Alfred and his cronies going to be down there with you?" Victoria asked, her dark pigtails bouncing against their red bow restraints. "No, it's just me." he answered. "Good. I'll be down in a second." she told him. A moment later, the agile girl descended from the heavens, giving a little grunt as she fell backwards on her butt.

Sure, she could climb, but jumping down always left her a little short of breath. She beamed at the Lithuanian, who returned the smile, already offering a hand to pull her up. She took it and hauled herself to her feet.

"We should go back now, Ms. Hedevary will be sending Ivan to look for the both of us soon." he said, and the two shuddered, thinking of the Russian exchange student recently put into their class.

"You're right, let's go." she said, taking his hand in hers.

Nowadays, in 9th grade, they don't talk to each other as much. Life's changed. Victoria and Arthur became a couple, while Toris hid in the shadow of his friend Feliks. Victoria had her circle of girl friends, while he had his trio of fellow victims that have been plagued by Ivan, who was much more sadistic than anyone could ever know.

But the two still, and will always, be there for each other, reaching out to one another.

They will always be best friends.

Despite how much Toris wishes they were something more.

**-Mom yelling at me to get off the (new!) computer-**

The risks I take to update this. Mom will bury me alive and do a ritual dance on my grave if I'm not in bed in the next 10 minutes...yeah. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to! This is dedicated to** Hazins. **To all those who submitted crack pairings for the Christmas fic, look on my latest story, Magic in the Air tonight, for 5 of them...:D

Hasta la Pasta!


	49. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

The day was cold and gray. No suprise there, it was winter.

The graveyard, menacing in the daylight, now looked downright scary, the faint glow from the old-fashioned street lamps that had survived for decades, their paint flecks staining the thin cover of snow that covered the ground, concealing ice that one could easily slip on, and hurt themselves. It was a very dismal place to be around, but in it, a certain Swede found his sanctuary.

Today he walked among the tombstones, every so often stopping to pause at various ones with intricate decoration carved onto the stone. He was silent, not wanting to disturb this place of rest, thinking it rude and impolite to talk in the prescene of those who could not anymore. Though he could not see them, the Swede knew that the dead walked among them in this place. His daughter and himself shared not much in common except for their silence.

Finally they arrived at the tombstone. It was beautiful, everything she had wanted it to be and more. Berwald faintly smiled as he traced the lettering on her tombstone, lingering on the name-her name.

_Bella Oxenstierna_

_April 19th, 1991- December 27th, 2011._

_"Pour vous, je vis, même dans la mort."_

They had both been so young, it was almost cruel. Married young, loved young, and then...she had died young. Two days after their 3rd anniversary, she had gotten in a freak car accident coming home from work. There was nothing more the doctors could've done.

Berwald stood up, finally noticing the silent tears that caressed his cheeks. He deftly wiped them and turned his face to the sky, a sliver of sun breaking through the veil of clouds. He gently placed a bouquet of tulips on her grave and a tender kiss to the stone.

He was alone, but at the same time, he wasn't.

She was still there, his little Belgian, even in death.

Bella was there for Berwald.

And would always be.

**-WHY BELBEL? WHYY?-**

Hope you enjoyed this sad little thing. Was listening to "Phantom of the Opera", and then I got an idea for a Belgium x Sweden fic. :D That is my new favorite couple! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	50. Girl, ahem, BOY friend?

"I will say this for the last time. I am not a girl." Kugelmugel stated through gritted teeth.

"You're lying!" Hutt River, more affectionately known as "Hutt" said in a sing-song voice. "I mean, look at these long braids! And those big violet eyes! No doubt about it, you're a girl." Hutt added, tweaking Kugelmugel's braids. "I am not a girl! how many times do I have to tell you!" Kugelmugel shreiked at him. "DO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU?" he yelled, hands already reaching down to undo the button on his pants. He was stopped when he saw Hutt blushing and looking down.

"What's the matter?"

"A proper young lady should not show her...parts...in the presence of a man!" Hutt stuttered. "AHHH! YOU MAKE ME SO ANGRY!" Kugelmugel screamed, eyes turning teary. "Kugel! Kugelmugel, calm yourself!" Hutt said, trying to comfort the distraught Austrian, sweeping the crying micronation up in his cloak. Kugelmugel sobbed into Hutt's nice white-button down shirt, pressing his face against the striped sash that hung across Hutt's body.

"W-why do you always say I'm a g-girl?" Kugelmugel hiccuped, still pressed against Hutt. Said Australian frowned.

"You really think I don't know your gender, Kugel? Of course I know you're male."

"B-but, then why-"

"What I meant was, you're the lady in our relationship."

"What relationship?"

"This one."

"Wha-mmph!"

After what seemed like an hour, they had to come up for air, breathless from the kissing.

"Ohhh. That relationship." Kugelmugel mused.

Hutt facepalmed. Sometimes Kugel could be pretty oblivious.

**-Pfft. * tries to hold in laughter* HAHAHAHA! XD-**

This funny little thing was inspired by AnaMachado, and her comment to me that Kugelmugel was not a girl... :DDDD I mistook him for one at first. I mean, THOSE BRAIDS! xD Hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	51. Brawl

"Fighting out of the red corner, with a record of 16 wins, 3 losses, this man is a generalist, fighting out of Espera, Molossia. Standing at five feet, ten inches, one-hundred eighty-three pounds, he is " The Micronation" Kevin Bulgh!"

The crowd roared their excitement. Kevin was an excellent fighter.

"And now, fighting out of the blue corner, with a record of 20 wins, also a generalist, 7 losses, fighting out of Paris, France. Standing at five foot nine inches, he is "The Frog" Francis Bonnefoy!"

The two men circled each other, each positive they were going to win. Losing meant certain death after all. This was underworld brawling.

The Frog started the fight. A straight jab found the Molossain in the unforgiving grip of the shorter, but considerably stronger Frenchman.

WHAM! The Frog's knee sailed smoothly into the Micronation's ribs, striking hard multiple times before said American could catch his breath, and the Frog started in on the takedown.

Oh hell no. The Micronation knew better.

The Micronation turned around and landed a solid kick to the groin, effectively knocking said howling Frenchman onto his back.

The taller man pounced.

Fists slammed over and over again into the face of the beautiful Frenchman, almost promising the victory...when a suprise superman punch from the supposedely immobile Frenchman knocked the Micronation out cold.

The crowd was rabid. Cheering for blood, screaming their assent when the Frenchman rose and gestured to the man on the ground. Screams of joy turned to boos as the Frog propped the Micronation against the cage and walked away.

"I couldn't do it even if I tried." Francis thought to himself as he changed back into his clothes. "I love him after all."

**-Well, what did you expect?-**

Hey! Hope you liked it, because I researched all this morning to fill the request from Austria's **buttscratcher .** And even then this wasn't nearly as good as I'd hoped it would be. But hopefully you guys liked it more than I did. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	52. Ciao, Bello

"You know you're not welcome here." Lovino snarled as Ludwig walked into the room, a desperate Feliciano behind him who snapped at his brother "He's the only one fratellino wanted to see, so shut up." Lovino was taken aback for a moment then realized Feliciano was only acting like this because of their little brother. "He's upstairs." Lovino mumbled to Ludwig, and then fled down the corridor, Feliciano at his heels. Ludwig walked upstairs, each step feeling like his foot was lead.

How would his beloved act upon seeing him...after two years?

How would he explain?

Was it worth it?

**Could** he explain?

Then he arrived at the wooden door to his room. To Alfonso's room. To his little Seborgian's room.

He knocked on the door. He stared at his shoes. Then a voice.

"Come in."

He pushed open the door.

The sunlight streamed out from behind him on the bed, even under the covers, making the youngest Italian look like an angel. "L-ludwig?" Alfonso coughed. It took the German about two seconds to take about five steps forward and fall onto his knees, his body shaking with suppressed sobs he'd held in all these years. Alfonso just smiled. "You c-came. I'm s-suprised. H-how have you been?" the Italian wheezed, his square curl bobbing in unison when his head dipped down to disguise the coughs.

Ludwig almost smiled in spite of everything. "You're dying, und you're asking me if I feel? Dummkopf." Alfonso gave a slight smile. "I missed you you know." he said, for once not coughing with his words. "I know." Ludwig said, the tears tracing rivers down his cheeks. "Did you miss me?" Alfonso asked, his voice quieting down to a murmur. Fear ran through the German at his side. "J-ja. I did." he stammered, sensing the two Italian brothers behind him.

"Hey, Ludwig...the light's really bright...it's hurting my eyes." the littlest Italian said, squinting into Ludwig's face. "You're not going yet, stay with me Alfonso!" Ludwig growled, cupping the face of Alsonso as the Italian's eyes started to close.

"Lud...I can see Grandpa Rome. Can you see him too?"

It was almost over. He couldn't stop it.

Lovino and Feliciano now entered the room, immediately welded to their baby brother's side, gripping his hands as the life left him.

"Ja. I can see him."

"Mmm. That's good. He's saying that I have to go...no! I don't want to go! I don't want to leave you!" Alfonso whimpered. Ludwig was now crying openly.

"I'm sorry, liebe, you have to." he managed to say through his sobs.

"Can I have something...before I go?" the Italian asked.

"Anything."

" Could I have a k-kiss?"

The German crushed his lips to his lover's as the Italian departed from this earth.

_"Ciao, bello."_

He was gone.

**-NO! SEBORGA, COME BAAAAACK!-**

*brains self in head with snapple bottle* WHY DO YOU WRITE SO MANY DEATH SCENES? WHY? Well, hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you want to.

Hasta la Pasta!


	53. Waltz

"Can I have this dance, principessa?" Italy murmured, kissing her hand. Seychelles blushed and took his hand, face turning a healthy rose color.

(Two minutes pass...)

"Italy? You have to put your hand on my waist." Seychelles told him, splaying her own hand on his shoulder, catching his hand with her own. Italy obliged.

"Are you alright?" she asked him worridely. He snapped back to attention. "Oh yeah, yeah! I'm just used to being the girl, ve~" Italy said happily, twirling Seychelles on impulse. The Seychellois girl giggled and gracefully landed back into Italy's arms. The Italian laughed and dipped the island nation. She let out a faint shriek as she dropped and was pulled back up again.

"After this, do you want to have some pasta with me?" Italy asked her as he waltzed her around the room, giving the occasional dips and twirls. She giggled again and nodded.

"We have to do this again sometime." she mused. It was his turn to nod. "NOW LET'S GET THAT PASTA!" Italy yelled, dragging her off the dance floor towards the resturant on the corner. She just smiled and ran alongside him.

She always would.

As long as he was the one to hold her hand.

**-IT'S SO...what is it?-**

Well, that's some Italy hetero to tide the masses over. :D Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	54. Sleepytime

"Mon Cher, I'm home!"

...

Silence.

"Mon cher? Corée? Where are you?" France called into the house, his voice bouncing off the ceilings, distorting the echo. France slipped off his shoes at the door and placed his briefcase on the hutch where his keys sat silently alongside the case, as if they felt sorry for themselves. France walked down the hallway towards the kitchen where the lunch dishes sat on the counter next to the sink, apparently not washed. He chuckled softly, a smirk on his features, and he dragged a hand through his hair as he exited in search of his favorite Korean.

The Frenchman went upstairs, feet instinctively turning to the bedroom.

Go figure.

He poked his head inside, and sure enough, there was his Korea, curled up on the comforter, peacefully sleeping, his curl gently resting against his head, as if it was resting with its master as well. France silently cooed over his sleeping lover, lowering himself down onto the bed to snake an arm around Korea, pulling him close. He smiled.

Korea was absolutely adorable as he slept.

**-Heh.-**

AWW! Korea DOES look fruking adorable when he sleeps!

Korea: YOUR BREASTS ARE MINE- DA-ZE!

Me: AGGGHHHH! Ah, well, ok.

Hope you liked it, and please review if you want to! ALSO, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVE! Will hopefully be uploading crack new years fic in a while. :D Stay tuned!

Dedicated to SullyWullyBunny. :D

Hasta la Pasta!


	55. Rainbow

"Ve~ Liechtenstein?"

Said nation looked up in alarm, only to find the scatterbrained Italian nation looking down at her.

"What are you doing down there?" he asked, his head cutely tilting to one side as he held out a hand to the petite female nation. She blushed, but took the hand offered. "I was hiding from brother. He's gotten scary these days. I don't like seeing him like that." she explained, gracefully pulling herself upwards into the embrace of the pasta-loving Italian. "I-I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, jumping out of his arms. "It's fine, no worries!" he said jubilantly, pulling the confused girl nation alongside him as he made for the back door of the house.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see, ve." came the Italian's reply.

"Okay."

She allowed herself to be led outside, wondering what he wanted her to see.

"Ohhh." was her breathless exclaimation as she saw the rainbow. Brilliant red, orange-y orange, sunny yellow, grassy green, azure blue, and royal purple all washed together in a beautiful symphony of color.

"I know, right? It's beautiful! And Grandpa Rome always said to enjoy beautfiul things with beautiful girls, so that's what I'm doing!" Italy said, the sun behind him making him look like a rejoicing angel. It took her breath away.

He thought...she was beautiful?

Nobody had ever told her that before, except France, but then her brother had quite sucessfully shot the offending pervert in the leg, muttering his disgust at all the nations trying to take advantage of his baby sister.

She smiled as he pulled her across the meadow positively bursting with flowers this time of year, blushing when Italy placed a yellow rose in her hair, claiming her to be "bella", and almost gasping when it fell out. Italy had placed it back, kissed her cheek and led her back up to the house before bieng shot at by her overprotective brother.

She fingered the place he had kissed on her cheek.

Outside, the rainbow still glowed happily.

All was well.

**-Awwz, I wish it snows over here. -**

Hehe. Hope you liked this cutesy little thing! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	56. Hungary's fault

It was all Hungary's fault, Vietnam had concluded.

It was Hungary that had invited Vietnam to the girl nations meeting. It was Hungary who had hinted at Belgium's fondness for cinnamon on her waffles. It was Hungary's idea to set her up with the European nation. Vietnam was a strong, independent nation, completely capable of running her own love life, right? Absolutely.

It was a little known fact that Vietnam was bisexual. Anyone who's met her as a nation knows she's had relationships with France and America before. It's written in her history, after all.

But that didn't mean she didn't like girls too. Heck, she'd even had the smallest of crushes on Taiwan for heaven's sake!

But, if it was true that it was all Hungary's fault...then Vietnam would have to thank her.

Thank her for the most caring girlfriend she'd ever had.

Thank her for the good-morning kisses Belgium would give to her.

Thank her for this moment, watching a romantic movie together on the couch.

It really was all Hungary's fault.

Hungary likes Yuri as well as Yaoi, it turns out.

**-:D-**

Hope you liked this! Going back to school tommorow...it sucks but, LONG LIVE WINTER BREAK! Anyways, dedicated to **owl7498! **

Hasta la Pasta


	57. Suprise

Austria loved piano.

No nation doubted he did, heck, he even expressed his anger with Chopin to Germany once.

It was a boring day at the conference, but the Austrian had already accumulated a giant headache, and was just going to go home and eat some cake. Yup, he solved his headache problems with cake. And a little asprin. But cake first.

That was his plan, and he already was debating what cake he should make when he heard music coming from the room where they had put a piano in case Austria got mad. Not just any music.

Great music.

Whoever was playing was amazing at it. Not as good as Austria, but the music was deep, compelling, but at the same time light and airy. It wasn't a melody that he could place...

He hurried towards the sound, ignoring his splitting migraine, determined to find out who could coax such beautiful sounds from his instrument.

He silently opened the door and fell back in a shock.

It. Was. AMERICA. Sure enough, the attractive... (_"Oh god, did I just think he was attractive?"_ Austria thought to himself, giving himself a slight slap.) Northern nation was pounding away at the keys, eyes closed in an expression that looked like the lovechild of determanation and anger.

The first thought in the Austrian's head was to snatch the American's hands of his piano, certain that America's rough hands would damage the ivory keys, but then he stopped.

America was an amazing pianist.

It would be his own little secret.

His migraine be damned.

**-Umm, that was...-**

Hey, hope you enjoyed this, dedicated to** Gingerclaw**, (your stories are awesome) and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	58. Meteor

"Mr. Romano? Where are we g-going?" Liechtenstein stuttered as she almost tripped over a tree root, being roughly dragged by her captor through the woods that surrounded Switzerland's house. "Shush," he replied. "Do you want your trigger-happy brother to find us?"

She shook her head, imagining the reaction her brother would have if he caught her after dark outside the house, and with another nation, A BOY to top it off. Not only would she suffer a major grounding, Romano would possibly resemble an Italian version of Swiss cheese from all the bulletholes in his torso...so it was probably in both their interests to keep quiet.

"W-where are you taking me?" she asked just as they finally broke through the haze of trees into a wide open clearing, the same one she had visited a few days before with Italy to see a rainbow. "Look." Romano said, pointing upwards at the heavens.

She glanced upward at the stars as bright trails of light streaked across, leaving her bedazzled. "It's a meteor shower. Tomato-bastard always said to share beautiful things with those dear to you. Italy was told something like that from _Nonno_, right?"

She nodded, feeling a blush spread across her face. "Besides, I kind of..." he trailed off, mumbling something else under his breath as he looked away from her.

"What?"

"I-t's nothing. We better get going before blondie finds out you're missing."

"O-okay."

Romano led her back to the house, saw that she was safely inside, and then sighed.

He then blew a kiss to her window and walked home under the twinkling stars.

**-:D:D:D:D-**

Hope you liked it! Dedicated to XxEvilxX... long time no see! :D Will be uploading your other request later tonight... Already have an idea for that one! :)

Hasta la Pasta!


	59. Date? Date

Somethings, Norway expected.

He expected that Denmark would always be there to annoy him. He expected that Sweden would continue to call Finland his wife. He expected that Iceland wouldn't call him "big brother" no matter how hard he tried.

Well, that was a depressing thought, wasn't it?

but one of the things Norway never in a million years expected, was for a hyperactive, breast-loving Korean plop down to him at a world conference, and ask him what he was doing Saturday night.

"Excuse me?" he asked, believing he'd heard Korea wrong.

"Are you doing anything Saturday night, da~ze?" he repeated, tilting his head to one side.

For a moment, all Norway could do was stare. It was like asking a fish how to ride a bicycle. That is, until Korea and his grabby hands tried to grope Norway's chest. At this, the stoic Norweigan grabbed hold on Korea's hanbok collar, and slammed him into the table.

...

That didn't stop the Korean from showing up on Saturday, bouquet of flowers in hand, on Norway's doorstep.

Norway wouldn't admit it, but the date had been really, really fun.

If you could call it a date.

Yes, you could.

**-How do you like them apples?-**

I like this couple. :D Anyways, XxEvilxX again, you are awesome. XD. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	60. Warmth

It's cold.

Ivan holds the Spaniard closer.

The blistering heat of Antonio's skin, even in this freezing cold, creates a warm feeling in Ivan's chest that he can't quite place. It's a feeling that he hasn't known for a long time. It could be called "Love" in another time, but now it's just the shadow of what could've been. Antonio doesn't respond to the hold the Russian has on him. He can't, anyways, even if he wants to.

There are plenty of things that Antonio wants to do…make things right with Lovino, for instance. But that opportunity has passed, that ship sailed. Lovino wouldn't come back to him anyways. It was a hopeless dream. He should be glad that Ivan craved his warmth so. He's not, however. His emerald eyes have lost their vibrant warmth, even if his flesh hasn't.

Ivan doesn't care. As long as there is someone to hold him through the freezing nights, he's alright, and this Spaniard is making him care more than he should. He wants to protect Antonio, even if Antonio is the one braving the winter cold to protect him.

He falls asleep, exhausted from the numbness of General Winter.

He awakes in his usual place, in the cage of Antonio's arms. But something's wrong.

Antonio's body is freezing.

He's dead.

Ivan kisses the lips of the corpse and sighs.

**_-End.-_**

O_o. I'm tempted to brain myself in the head with a frying pan. I had promised myself no more deaths! But my mind is addicted to these dramatic little things, so hope you enjoyed it! :D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!

-Kat


	61. Her

Sealand always sees her at the conference. Sometimes she is sitting with her brother, Switzerland, sometimes next to Lithuania on account of alphabetical seating. He's lucky he even gets to see her occasionally, since he's technically not a nation, but a micro-nation. He's glad he gets to see her though. Her pale blond hair with that purple ribbon hanging loosely off the side, her green eyes blinking inquisitively at everything…she wasn't pretty. She was beautiful. She was as radiant as the sun.

She's the reason he wants to become a nation so badly.

So he can get strong and protect her.

Her.

Liechtenstein.

**-Is this the shortest or what?-**

Sorry is this was too short...I've been kinda stumped these past couple days, a lot of things going on. I don't really count this as crack very much, but it's sure cute, isn't it?

Hasta la Pasta!


	62. Plum Blossoms

The plum blossoms were always lovely this time of year, China observed as he ran a pale hand down one of the branches where several of the tiny flowers bloomed forth. They were delicate and graceful, and always gave the Chinese man a sense of calm and peace. It was one of the few things he got delight from other than family visits and cute things. They swayed gently in the refreshing breeze, and with the wind, carried in a new scent.

Homey, and fragrant, like syrup…maple syrup? Maybe, for this man looked like America, but his hair was a tad longer, the wind teasing it as the bespectacled nation bent over slightly to sniff the blossom.

The mysterious nation…yes he was a nation because all nation radiated that same fragrance, of strife and the sharp, sweet metallic taste of blood, just hinting their clothes, even the younger generation, like Liechtenstein, but the mystery man had the most beautiful violet eyes he'd seen on anyone, even surpassing Russia, whose eyes were icy and not friendly at all, and Finland, whose eyes were beautiful, but they were more easygoing, more easy on the eyes.

These eyes were a gorgeous dark blue mixed in with a amethyst color, and China as he made eye contact with the nation, blushed because they were so focused on his own chocolate irises. In one fluid movement even France would be jealous of; the America-look-alike twisted the flower off, carrying it gently in his palm, and placed it behind China's ear, his hand lingering to caress the jaw of the elder nation.

"It suits you." He murmured, and a healthy red color buried itself in China's skin.

Then he was gone, leaving China wonder if what had just happened…had actually happened. He touched the flower again.

"C-Canada, aru."

**-WHOOSH~!, there goes the moment.-**

Hope you liked this, and I'm SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG! *kneels* This is dedicated to owl7498, I'm sorry it took so long, I just wanted it to be good. :D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	63. Lies

He lied to me again. The Danish bastard, I mean.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, Lovi-pants, just stay here, okay?" the idiot had said to me earlier, ruffling my hair as I spun the combination on my locker's lock. "Fine, Danish-bastard. But come back quickly, you got it? " I muttered to him, finally getting my locker open, and shoving my books inside my bag. Before I knew it, a kiss was smacked onto the side of my head and the Danish-bastard was running down the halls to get away from my usual temper-tantrum.

I didn't yell at him or anything like threatening to chop off his vital regions and serve them to him on a silver platter…of course not, you bastards! I'm cooler than that! Seriously!

Five minutes passed, and quickly that turned to ten. He never kept his promises.

"_I'll come back in a minute!" _

"_I'll be right back!"_

"_Lovi, I love ya!"_

"Oh, you really love me, bastard? Then how come I see you sucking that Norwegian guy's face off right now?" I thought to myself as I walked past the classroom where the two were kissing, not even going inside. I knew that reluctant tears would be flowing soon enough.

There was the tell-tale sniffle.

I've got to get out of here.

Goodbye, bastard.

**-…..I'M SORRY!-**

*hangs head in shame* I'm SO SORRY! This is bad…isn't it? Anyways, hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	64. Maybe Someday

_Pairing: Monaco/Liechtenstein_

Fleur slammed the door of her locker shut, giving a satisfied nod when she heard the lock click into place, effectively trapping her belongings. Like usual, the Monacan student was extremely agitated. For what reasons, you ask? Well, for one thing, not only did her older half-brother flirt with her, her two half-sisters, Bella and Victoria, the Frenchman had made her sprain her ankle in her attempt to free herself from his lecherous grasp. She winced as she put pressure on it, feeling that strong surge of pain flow through her ankle, causing her to lose her balance and crash against the metal row of lockers, her bag spilling its contents all over the clean floors.

"_Oh, merde." _She cursed, not noticing the person at the other end of the long winding corridor. Said person, a petite girl from Liechtenstein, Lili, blinked her timid green eyes as she observed the Monacan stretching her fingers to retrieve a stray textbook that had skittered out of her reach. Lili hesitantly walked down the hallway, her mary-janes clopping on the hard floor in neat, sharp, sounds, until she was able to reach down and pick up the textbook the Monacan had dropped.

Said Monacan blinked her dark blue eyes through her glasses before two pink splotches adorned her cheeks and she looked down, taking the book as she blushed. "T-thank you." She said, clearing her throat as she did so. Lili smiled gently, offering a hand to the flushing girl. Fleur, after a moment of hesitation, took it, and hauled herself and her bag to her feet. "You're welcome!" Lili said. "I'll see you in ballet class tomorrow, right?" the slightly taller girl asked on impulse, peering expectantly, yet fearfully, at the Monacan.

"Yes, of course you will." Fleur told her, returning her smile, and bid her a good day, using the wall for support as she limped home.

Lili watched her go with a sigh of happiness. She had managed to talk to Fleur today. She would attempt to do so tomorrow as well. Maybe someday, Fleur would love her as much as Lili loved Fleur.

**-I have exams tomorrow...yipee.-**

Well, I hope you liked this little bit of Yuri fluff. Made especially for Willow the Collie, you are amazing, and thank you for the pairing suggestions! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	65. Math Exam

_**WARNING: If you like semi-dirty stuff, READ ON! If not… READ ANYWAYS! :D **_

_Pairing: Denmark/Romano_

_Why: B/c the last chapter of them I wrote…sucked. _

**-BRRRIIINNNGGG!-**

Five seconds.

Four seconds.

Three seconds.

Two seconds…one!

"_BRRRRRIIIIINNNG!"_ The bell that signaled the end of the school day made its usual appearance.

Lovino resisted the temptation to do a happy dance in his seat. It was finally over! The first day of a looong week of exams was over. Hey, he was just happy to get through his ultra-boring math exam that was more like a unit test than anything else. He straightened his test booklet and slammed it onto his math teacher Mr. Kohler's desk. The Danish teacher's eyes flickered up in amusement and he grinned.

Lovino was one of his best… students after all.

"_Hmmm."_ The teacher murmured, rubbing his jaw as he admired the view from where he was sitting. Lovino's ass stuck straight up in the air, the fault of the Italian's overcrowded binder clattering to the tiled floor ,spilling its contents, making his shirt riding up to expose a bit of the smooth olive toned skin on his back. The sneaky Dane furtively looked to the right, then the left, and when he saw no one there, he quickly stood, reached out and flicked the lock on the classroom door.

Lovino was hauled onto the Dane's lap, gleaming white teeth bit harshly down onto his neck, sucking the skin, making sure to leave a love bite. "W-what the f-fu—_ahhh_, are you do—_ohhh_…" Lovino exclaimed, breath hitching, ending the statement in a lustful sigh as the Dane's tongue flicked over the throbbing mark, strong hands reaching up and under the whisper-thin button-down Lovino had on, caressing the flat plains of the Italian's stomach.

**-*nosebleed*-**

"Danish-bastard, why couldn't you have waited until we got home, dammit?" Lovino grumbled as he straightened his clothes. The Dane in question was smirking as he licked white liquid off his fingers. "Nope," the teacher said, popping the 'p'. "I missed you, ya know?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, a blush heating his face.

"Whatever."

**-Ummmm...OHONHONHONHON!Transition-**

O_O. What the chigi did I just write? Can you tell me? Hope you enjoyed this, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	66. Holding your Hand in the Hallways

Pairing: Sweden x Liechtenstein

**-Ding dong!-**

Berwald could practically feel the gawkers and stares as he and his girlfriend (Man,_ it felt good to be able to say that)_ walked down the hallways together to their English class. His gaze traveled down to his side where she was, their interlocked hands visible, but at the same times not, her shoulder-length pale blond hair blowing faintly in the breeze carried in through the open windows. Her inquisitive green eyes were anxious, gauging the reactions of their classmates.

Berwald was incredibly nervous as well. After all, he was holding hands with the most beautiful girl in the school whom he adored, but also the girl whose brother would shoot anyone who so much as bumped her in the hallway. He tried to pull himself together for the sake of the girl beside him. He slightly smiled to himself, and then did something that surprised even him.

The Swede leaned down to lightly kiss Anni's cheek, eliciting a small squeak from the surprised Liechtensteiner teen. He immediately drew back, thinking he had wrecked everything he'd worked so hard to make possible. Then she squeezed his hand and stood on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his own cheek.

He was in love with a wonderful girl, who'd always be there to be with him.

For she loved him as much as he did her.

**-Awwwz.-**

Hope you liked this, and I'm thinking about making this into a full fledged story! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	67. Poetry

His pencil drags slowly across the page, the once-white paper marred by crossed out lines of poetry, tiny holes where the bored Icelander had poked the lead through. The teen is contemplating his English assignment.

"_Write a poem about something close to you." _

He supposes he could write about his older brother, but then again…he just doesn't want to. He doesn't really hold anything dear to him except his puffin. But who writes a poem about a puffin? He's not going to become the first, thank you very much.

Then he sees her. She's got her usual cat smile on her face and she's trailing a finger down the spines of books that are crammed into the solid oak bookshelves of the school library. Her uniform fits her perfectly, and she catches his eye and smiles brightly. His heart skips a beat and he finds the thing he wants to write about.

That Belgian named Emma is what he wants to write about.

So he gets out a new piece of paper and writes.

**-BULRG.-**

Hope you liked it, and suggest couples, Guys! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	68. Iron Cross

No.

This couldn't be happening.

He was fighting hard, just like he was told. AWESOMELY fighting, he might add.

Why was he dissolving? He couldn't go now! His men needed him! His brother needed him!

SHE needed him.

She.

That little nation who had never been close to anyone except her brother… his little birdie, his beautiful Liechtenstein…he couldn't die on her!

He was dying now, he realized. He felt faint and weak, and his knees were threatening to buckle.

In the midst of the dying around him, crying out in pain, he raised a trembling hand to the iron cross around his neck, and kissed it, imagining it to be her soft, pink lips. Then he gave in to the blackness that was dulling his vision, and thudded to the ground.

He would see her someday, he was sure of it.

"L-lili." Was his broken whisper as the life left him.

Somewhere else, a girl with a bow in her hair felt tears tracing down her cheeks.

"G-gilbert?"

**-WWWWWHHHHAAAAT?-**

NEIN! Hope you enjoyed it, dedicated to LuxembourgtheAmazing. *eats cakes, then hugs* :DDDDD Finland makes some good stuff, doesn't he? Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	69. He's Cute

_Pairing: Spain/Hong Kong_

**-SHOES! :P-**

Antonio sees the boy every day.

Usually he's by himself, that boy, with the semi-long dark brown hair. The tanned jock furrows his brow; trying to remember the country that boy was from.

H…Hong Kong! That was it!

The Spaniard likes to watch this boy a lot. He's interesting to the Spanish stud. He's cold, reclusive, and tells you the truth, no matter how brutal it might be. Antonio remembers the time when the boy told his sister, the Taiwanese girl, that she had a booger hanging out of her nose while she was talking to that Polish boy. Antonio frowns as he recalls the squeal that nearly blew out his eardrums following the statement from the Chinese boy.

The boy…Michael… is very interesting. He might be cold, but Antonio knows he cares deeply for is siblings, and in terms on education, Michael is right up there, 3rd or 4th from the top of the list of exam scores. Antonio thinks the boy is amazingly cute as well. Whenever Michael gets flustered, which doesn't happen often, he becomes bright red like a tomato! Ah, tomatoes.

So Antonio walks over to Michael this fine day and sits down. Michael eyes him warily, but gives his consent.

Michael thinks Antonio is cute too.

More than he'd like to admit.

Like he'd admit it.

**-ADMIT IT! –*points finger accusingly*-**

Hope you liked it, and this is for **owl7498**…I'll try to do France X Belarus soon, as well as Germany X Seychelles. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	70. I Miss Him

I miss him. I don't really even have the need to, but I miss him.

I miss the roses he'd poke through my hair, and the naughty hand that would trace down the figure of my dress until I slapped him away or held a knife to his throat.

I missed the surprise kisses he'd spring on me, his lips tasting like wine and velvet, the killer combination…with just a hint of rose tea I knew he liked with his afternoon snack. No matter how much he denied it in public, France loved tea as much as wine. He just didn't let his love for THAT show as much as his love of beauty.

I miss him calling me beautiful. He actually made me feel like it.

I miss him on the whole.

I, Natalia Arlovskaya, the Republic of Belarus, miss and long for Francis Bonnefoy, or the French Republic. Either way, he's gone, I'm not. He loved another. It's as simple as that.

It's not like I'm sharpening my knife for a certain Seychellois nation or anything.

Of course not.

**-AWWWZ!-**

I'm sorry if Belarus was a bit out of character. I was feeling depressed and wrote that Fance x Belarus thing. Dedicated to owl7498! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	71. Heaven's Light

Germany would watch them stroll outside his window.

Finland, Sweden, and their son, Sealand, that is. The boy would be energetically talking to his 'mama' while said parental unit looked at the micro-nation with a fond smile, and Sweden's mouth would slightly turn upwards, signaling he was smiling. Germany shouldn't be jealous. But he ends up being so, anyways. He always felt his heart crash against his chest when he saw the Finn.

But…he knew that his love for the Finn could never expose itself. The German knew, as he had known for a long time, that Finland had a family now, and priorities. Germany knew he'd never have a family like that, not with that warm and loving glow, even if he wished on all the shooting stars in the sky.

He could never ruin Finland's beautiful light.

The Finn was an angel. He deserved to be treated as such.

He was like Heaven's light.

Germany imagined that Finland was smiling at him.

His cold, dark, house felt warmer now than it had in years.

He swore it must be Heaven's light.

Germany felt a tear run down his face, but he smiled.

The family turned the corner, out of sight, and suddenly the warmth faded.

It was gone.

Germany turned away just as Finland looked back at the dark window, sensing that someone had been watching him.

The Finnish nation shrugged and burrowed into Sweden's side.

Why did he feel so cold?

**-… Aww, Germany come here and give me a hug!-**

Hope you enjoyed it, here's some Unrequited Germany x Finland love for **LuNa6780, **Thanks for all your reviews. It really means a Lot. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	72. Hugs over Coffee

_Pairing: Hungary/Lithuania_

**-Lalala~!-**

Elizaveta looked upwards from her laptop in longing when she smelled the strong coffee coming from the kitchen. She hauled herself to her feet and stretched a bit, wincing when she heard her joints creak and pop. She'd been hunched in front of her laptop for the better part of 6 hours now and the Hungarian woman was dying for a strong cup of coffee.

Elizaveta shuffled into the kitchen, shielding her eyes with her hands as she walked in from her dark office into the fluorescent light of the kitchen where her beloved husband, Toris was, brewing the liquid with a smile on his face that widened when he looked over his shoulder at her. "Hey." She greeted him, yawning as she did so. "Hey. Did you finish your work?" he asked her. She shook her head, her brown tresses bouncing across her back. She pulled them up in a messy ponytail as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee.

The Lithuanian man frowned. "Eliza, you need your sleep. Don't overwork yourself."

It was her turn to look back at him. "I know, and I will, but right now it's really stressful at the office, and I need to get the stuff done." She replied. He sighed in defeat and moved to wrap his arms around her waist. She giggled at her lovable husband's antics.

Maybe she could put off her work until a _little_ later.

Her husband was always more important.

Always.

**-*yawns*-**

Ahh. It's snowy outside! :D This is for **VoicesoftheSoul** and all else who have wanted some Liet/Hungary stuff…took me a long time. Anyway, please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	73. SNSD and ABBA

_Pairing: S. Korea/Sweden_

**-Bring, goes the alarm clock!-**

Berwald slowly sat up in bed and yawned. He sat there for a minute, dazed, then took his glasses from his nightstand and put them on. The world came into focus, and it was then when he noticed that his boyfriend was not where he usually was.

That is, in bed, that hair curl that looked like it had a face of its own, happily sleeping away. Usually, Im Yong Soo would be doing that, but he was not. Berwald's brow furrowed as he swung his legs out of bed and plodded off down the hallway in nothing but his slippers and his flannel pajama pants to search for his Korean lover.

Then he heard it.

"_Ddok barohae,_

_Neon joengmal _

_BAD BOY!_

_Sarangbodan Hogishimbbun." _

Oh hell no. Berwald entered the kitchen to see Yong Soo prancing around, singing along, and shaking what his mama gave him. As much as Berwald enjoyed the view, he leaned over and pushed the stop button on the boom box.

"Ber-da-ze!" the Korean huffed in annoyance.

Berwald answered by putting his hands on his hips and giving a glare.

"If Ah'm n't a'lowed ta l'sten t' Abba, ya aren't n't a'lowed ta l'sten ta SNSD." He stated, giving a small smirk as he saw Yong Soo's face go as pale as a sheet. The Swede turned to go, but was pulled back and before he knew it, a long lingering kiss was planted right on his mouth by Yong Soo.

It was a while before they came up for air, but when they did, Berwald's face was an inferno.

"So?" The Korean asked after a moment.

Berwald covered his face with one hand and sighed in defeat.

"F'ne. But don't pl'y it too lo'd"

Yong Soo's face lit up and he hugged his boyfriend tightly.

But then, Berwald pulled the curl.

"_O-ohhhhhhhhhhh."_

**-*nosebleed*-**

WHOA! I love crack pairings, don't you? XD Hope you liked it, please review if you want to! This is for **XxEvilxX, **you, my friend, are awesome. The song is "Run Devil Run" by SNSD. :D It's awesome.

Hasta la Pasta!


	74. Telling your Brother

_Pairing: Denmark/Vietnam_

**-Telling your brother you're dating isn't always a good thing…-**

The silence hung in the air like a fog of incense, choking the inhabitants of the room. Blue eyes, usually playful and charming were swimming in nervousness as they darted around the room to look at anything except the Oriental man sitting across from him. The Oriental's eyes were a dark brown, radiating malice.

"So, aru." The Chinese man sitting opposite the Dane hissed. The Vietnamese girl next to the Dane gave a reassuring squeeze to the big hands of the Nordic, who gave her a shy smile.

"You never once came to ask for permission before dating my sister, aru." China continued, hands clenched together so hard they looked like they would snap. "Um, no. I thought she's old enough to make her own decisions, ya know? " Denmark said haughtily, yet, frantically shooting his girlfriend, Vietnam, a SOS look. "Hmmm. Most interesting, aru." China murmured, smoothing his cheongsam out. Then he looked up, a dazzling grin on his face. "Aiya, you two look so cute together, aru! You'll make a great couple, aru!" the Chinese brother-figure squealed.

Denmark and Vietnam both looked like they'd been hit by a bus.

"So…you're not mad?" Vietnam asked cautiously.

"Why would I be mad, aru?" China asked, tilting his head to one side, an inquisitive look on his face.

Vietnam and Denmark exchanged looks. "Never mind. Let's go." Vietnam said to Denmark as they turned to leave. "Wait!" China called after them. When they turned back, China was blushing.

"I want to be an uncle, aru." The old nation muttered, and hurried out of the room.

"Did he just-?"

"Let's just go, Den."

"But what-?"

"Do I need to hit you with the paddle?"

"No, babe."

SMACK.

**-…WHHHAAT, the crapola happened here? –**

Can you tell me? Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	75. Ribbons

_Pairing: Sweden/Seychelles_

**-It's cold in here.-**

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Hetalia Memorial park. The Sun was cheerfully shining, puffy clouds littered the sky, and it seemed as though the entire neighborhood had shown up to bask in the rarity. From where Berwald was sitting on a sunlit bench, he could see his four brothers playing next to the water fountain. He watched with amusement as his little brother Emil tricked his older brother Matthias into falling backwards in the water fountain, earning a scowl from the Dane.

The Swede sighed, covering his face with one hand as the Sun gazed down at the happy scene. Then he opened his eyes and sat up. He had seen her. The beauty he had seen was a girl named Victoria.

Slightly tanned skin, a laughing pair of golden brown eyes, and two dark pigtails tied up in two bouncing red bows. A knee-length bright blue dress hugged her frame, and dipped and twirled as its owner ran around the grassy field, her bare feet doing a complicated dance around her guardians, a Frenchman, Francis Bonnefoy, and a Brit, named Arthur Kirkland.

Berwald watched the Seychellois girl intently, only pausing in his stare to blink. He had heard about her before. She was beautiful, kind, smart, and had a large swordfish on her person at all times, lest her French parent attempt to grope her.

Suddenly, one of her bows fell out of her hair. Victoria didn't notice and continued to prance around the park. Berwald contemplated his options. He could pick it up and give it to her…or he could stay here and not draw attention to himself.

While he was pondering these options, he unconsciously had stood up and retrieved the ribbon. He snapped out of his stupor to see the accessory firmly clutched in his hands, the ribbon starting to crinkle. Berwald knew then that he had no other option than to give it back to her. He timidly approached the girl and tapped her on the shoulder.

Victoria turned around and was stunned into silence. There was the scary Swede everyone had been talking about, holding her ribbon. He didn't look scary however…he looked rather cute with that faint blush on his face. She reached up to touch her right pigtail, where she found no ribbon, and she laughed to ease the silence between them.

"Ah, Merci. I didn't know I had lost it!" she said, taking the ribbon from his outstretched hand. The Swede gave a shy smile. "Yoo're w'lcome." He mumbled, feeling as though he were the beast and she the beauty in this fairytale.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

He couldn't think at this point.

So, cautiously, he squeezed back.

**-AWWWWZZZZ!-**

Awww. I hope you liked it, and this is for **WillowtheCollie,** thanks for your suggestions, will get around to them sooner or later! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	76. Hairbrush

_Pairing: Germany x Seychelles_

**-Oh, where is my hairbrush?-**

"I'm sorry; usually France offers to do this for me." Seychelles apologized.

"It's all right, sometimes Italy asks me to do this as well." Germany sighed.

"Ouch!" The island nation cried.

"Sorry." The German nation apologized as he ran the brush through the tangled mass that was Seychelles' hair. With each stroke of the brush, her hair grew softer, longer, and shone like golden chocolate, beautiful as it trailed down her back. Germany smiled slightly. Seychelles wasn't whiny like Italy who burst out crying if the German nation so much as pulled his hair the slightest bit. He ran a hand through the tresses, feeling the silky strands slip through his fingers.

The girl's breath hitched in her throat. Her heart was crashing against her chest, craving the man's touch more and more. Seychelles closed her eyes as the stoic German played with her hair, sending vibrations through her skull as Germany's large, calloused hands caressed it.

Maybe she should ask Germany to brush her hair more often.

**-Heheh-**

Hope you enjoyed this, and this is for **AnaMachado,** whom I promised a GermanySeychelles a long time ago, and had yet to do it. :D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	77. Call Me Romania

_Pairing: Prussia/Romania_

**-It's nighttime and France is under my bed. Help is needed please.-**

Gilbert is the only one who can see him.

He comes at night, his outline a sharp contrast to the pale white of the moon standing behind the lone figure. If Gilbert could see him in the sunlight, he'd know that the stranger's hair was a shaggy strawberry-blond, his eyes a piercing blood red like his own.

Everyone tells him that this is just a figment of his imagination, that it doesn't exist. Gilbert and his awesomeness know that this was no creation of his awesome Prussian head. The bite marks on his throat prove his claims, but for some reason, he doesn't tell a soul. It is his little secret.

He feels a deep stirring of lust whenever he sees the dark predatory stare his vampire gives him as the creature of the night stalks towards him on silent feet, ignoring the icy tears that he sheds in pain when those familiar teeth find the groove they've dug over and over again, and finally penetrate his skin.

It's his forbidden desire.

His love.

His whole heart.

His entire being.

Bit, nipped, kissed, by the fragile fangs of his foe that will most ultimately lead to his undoing.

It's one of those nights again, gentle kissing in the place of harsh biting.

"You never told the awesome me what your name was." Gilbert realized.

The vampire smirked and pressed his lips against Gilbert's yet again.

"You can call me Romania."

**-Whacks France out the window with a shoe.-**

Hope you liked this, though I'm not so sure where it came from…for **AnaMachado,** you are awesome sauce, and hopefully this matches your expectations!

Hasta la Pasta!


	78. What's wrong?

Pairing: Hong Kong/Norway

**-STOICS-**

"What's wrong?" Hong Kong asked Norway, finding him hiding in a room off the conference hall. The Norwegian looked up from where he had been sitting next to the window, looking out on the people down below. The Nordic shrugged. "Come on, you and I both know that something's wrong." The Chinese nation pressed, sitting down in the chair facing Norway's. Norway turned to him, sporting his usual stoic expression. "Nothing." He said, giving another shrug. Hong Kong looked flatly at his boyfriend, clearly not believing him.

"Nor."

"Don't call me that."

"Noooor."

"Stop it. You're starting to sound like Denmark."

"NOOOOOR."

"WHAT!" The Norwegian snapped, a frustrated scowl staining his usually bored face. Hong Kong's eyes flashed as he grabbed the ribbon of Norway's uniform and pulled his Nordic in for a kiss.

Norway's lips were slightly chapped, but cool, and matched Hong Kong's perfectly. The kiss quickly escalated into a battle for dominance, a pale hand knotting in Hong Kong's smooth, but choppy brown hair, a hand still pulling on Norway's tie hard, tongues melding together in a perfect display of harmony, even as they fought.

But soon enough, the moment was broken and they had to come up for air.

"W-what was that for?" Norway asked, quickly reverting back to the stoic look usually present on his face.

"You looked like you were bothered by something." Was all that Hong Kong told him.

"Well, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"NO, I'm not."

"Do I have to kiss you again?"

"How is that a threat?"

A sly grin wove its way onto Hong Kong's face.

"You want to find out?"

**-Well, um…okay.-**

This is for **Magisk, **I must get to the pairings you mention. I must… I MUST. :D Hope you enjoyed this, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	79. Crazy Things

_Pairing: Poland/Canada_

**-Shoes. Let's totally get some shoes. :P-**

"Mm hmm. Are you, like, sure? That red is, like totally perfect with your skin tone. I'm serious, Amer-Canada!" Poland gushed as he ushered the shy Northern country through the racks of clothing at one of the numerous department stores in the mall. Canada blushed as red as the maple leaf on his oversized hoodie at that statement.

"I'm fine in terms of clothes. I'm comfortable enough in this hoodie, eh?" the near-invisible nation protested, trying meekly to ward off the Pole's fashion frenzy, but to no avail. "Nonsense, you look totally like a whore in those jeans." Poland said, effectively cutting off any other form of protest from the Canadian.

"Did you just call me a whore?" Canada asked, and Poland waved it off.

"Like, naw, but still, you are in serious need of new clothes."

Canada rolled his eyes, but went along.

He had to be there in case his boyfriend upset any shoppers like that time at Target when he made a scene at being in the boy's section when he wanted to be in Ladies Lingerie. Canada cringed. What Poland needed that for, Canada had no idea whatsoever.

But still, he let himself be dragged about by the fashion police in the flesh as the Pole spotted a display jewelry.

Canada smiled as his boyfriend paraded around; throwing model poses left and right.

Love makes you do crazy things, right?

**-AWWWZ!-**

Love this couple. :D Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	80. Panda, aru!

_Pairing: China/Hungary _

**-:D-**

Hungary hummed as she swept the porch of Austria's house. Said Austrian, wasn't home, but she still felt a connection to the old place. She flitted down the hall, peering in rooms she hadn't seen in ages, pretending her broom was a dance partner as she whirled across the floors.

The Hungarian nation stopped in her tracks. She backpedaled a few paces until she was a standing in front of one of the colossal windows that adorned her ex's walls.

She blinked.

She blinked again.

There, standing in Austria's garden out back was…a panda? She pinched herself.

A PANDA was lumbering around the rosebushes that Spain had planted a while ago. Hungary's eyes became glittering emeralds as she grabbed a stainless-steel frying pan and went outside, squinting in the bright light.

Hungary walked towards the animal, waving her frying pan to scare it off, but it didn't budge. Then she heard a voice from the distance.

"Panda! Where'd you go, aru?" China's voice called, clear as a bell through the beautiful day. The old nation himself came into view and he caught sight of the panda rather quickly.

"PANDA! Don't ever do that again, aru! Were you causing trouble for Ms. Hungary, aru?" the nation growled, scolding the panda.

Hungary giggled, her laugh like a tinkling bell. "No, he wasn't China. What was he doing here anyway?", she inquired.

"Ah, we were just going to see France, aru, and he wandered off." China said wearily, tugging the animal again.

The panda blinked.

"She your girlfriend?" the animal whom Hungary had assumed couldn't talk asked.

Both of them flushed fire-engine red.

But China wasn't denying it, now, was he?"

**-…*giggle, aru*-**

Hey! Guests were over this weekend, so I couldn't update much. Hope you enjoyed it! This is for **HetaReader, **thanks for the pairing suggestions!Please review if you want to!** Oh, and hey, if you could, I want to ask you guys what your favorite chapter of this so far, so if you have a favorite, please let me know! :D **

Hasta la Pasta!


	81. Saratoga

_Pairing: Fem!America x France_

**-KABLAMO!-**

"Breathe." America thought to herself.

Things would change after this battle.

America knew it as soon as Burgoyne surrendered, and she heard the whoops and whistles of her men as they rejoiced. She could see England from where she was standing in her tattered uniform, his eyes narrowed in disgust and shock. She felt a familiar heave in her stomach as she looked at her 'parent'.

She turned her back on him, and let herself be led away by her army.

**-Transition-**

"Amerique, ma cherie, how you've grown." A French-accented voice called to her back in the confines of her camp. She turned around to be greeted with the sight of France, looking his usual flamboyant self. America's hand instinctively placed itself on her musket, and France put up his hands in a "Whoa, girl" gesture.

"Calm yourself! I'm here to offer my help." The Frenchman snapped, irritated that his reputation preceded him.

"Help?" America hissed, hand not leaving her weapon.

"Of course. It's natural to help beautiful women, after all." France told her, sitting across from her.

"Why?"

"Why not?" he answered, dark blue eyes sincere, giving her hand on the musket a gentle squeeze, and then leaned back in his seat.

America, much to her embarrassment, was still thinking about how much she had liked his hand on hers.

She had liked it a lot.

"Okay. Deal." She said.

France grinned.

**-YAWN-**

Anyways, hope it didn't suck too badly, and hope you enjoyed it! This is for** LuxembourgtheAmazing**! You are amazing! :D Please review if you want to!

**Hasta la Pasta! **


	82. A Very, Very Good Night

_Pairing: Turkey/Prussia_

**-Awesomely tired.-**

"Turkey? The awesome me bids you goodnight!" Prussia sleepily called as he wandered into the living room where Turkey sat, doing something on the computer. The ex-nation had on a short white t-shirt and his underwear for his pajamas, easy to wear, and easy to take off, if the moment arose. Turkey swiveled around to face his lover, a smirk plastered on his face. He whistled.

"Well, helloooo, beautiful." The Turkish man said, reaching a long arm out to wrap around Prussia's waist, and pulled the albino close, nuzzling his face in Prussia's neck. Prussia laughed as Turkey's stubble tickled his bare skin.

"St-top it! You're being unawesome!" Prussia managed to gasp out between laughs. Turkey growled, playfully, giving a few harsh bites and fast flicks with his tongue against the throbbing love-bites. Prussia struggled to get out of the grip of the possessive Turk, falling down into said Turk's lap.

Both of them could tell that it was going to be a very, very good night indeed.

-**OHONHON-**

Lol. Hope you liked it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	83. Freezing Us

_Pairing: Poland/Ukraine_

**-Baby, its cold outside-**

"Katya…It's totally cold." Feliks repeated as temperatures dropped in their small home in Warsaw. The Ukrainian woman glanced briefly upwards from her search for blankets, for anything that could warm the pair, and gave a small, sad, smile. "I k-know, Feliks. I-I know." she said, stuttering from the frosty air that seeped in through the cracks of the small space.

"Can we turn the heating up, like, anymore?" Feliks whined, going over to his wife's side to burrow his face in her…ahem…land masses, so to speak. Again, she smiled, the tears spilling over her eyes and freezing on her cheeks. "N-nyet, Feliks." She said, hiccupping from the sobs threatening to escape her dark blue eyes. "Katya…come on, totally don't cry, it'll make me, like, start to cry, and I don't want to cry." The Pole said, gently caressing his bride's face.

"I don't want to die." Katya whispered, and Feliks's hand moved to her hair, stroking the silky strands.

"I know…_kochanie_, like, believe me, I know. Let's go to bed,mmkay?" Feliks said, putting his arm around his wife. She nodded, and took a last look around that same, small house. The same old wooden table that they sat at day after day, sharing breakfast together and dinner together. The same loveseat that they had cuddled on during those winter nights, their bodies sharing the heat under a heavy wool blanket. The same array of pots and pans in the kitchen, the pristine surface of the counters.

She would miss them.

She was led softly by the hand of her feminine husband, into the bedroom, into the room with that same bed that they'd laid on, dreamed on, loved on, been content on. She was vaguely aware of her husband laying her down on the same worn bed, and putting his arms around her, his shoulder length blond hair hiding his face. She could still see the green eyes swimming with tears.

She could tell that he didn't want to go either.

She finally sucumbed to the mind-numbing exhaustion that plagued her.

Her eyes shut.

The cold whistled onwards.

Feliks closed his own eyes, tightening his embrace on his Katya.

The cold whistled onwards.

Darkness.

No...it was light.

**-Why am I addicted to deaths?-**

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this. Europe is freezing around this time of year, especially Kiev and Warsaw, and hearing that I just had to write this. D: Please review if you want to!

**Hasta la Pasta!**


	84. Like a Sister, right?

_Pairing: Fem! Germany x Male! Hungary _

**-All in the Golden Afternoon!-**

He found her in the garden, as usual. She was gazing at the Knapweed, a relaxed and carefree expression in her blue eyes, and in her lap was a book that remained unread as its owner was captivated by the flower.

The Hungarian man decided to sneak up on the stoic German girl. He crept behind her, and in one fluid motion clapped his hands over her eyes. A surprised gasp left the German's mouth and she tried in vain to pry the hands off. No could do, for the hands, rough and calloused from using his trusty frying pan on the German's sister, and would not let go that easily.

"Daniel?" a grouchy, exasperated voice asked, ceasing her resistance. He laughed.

"How'd you know it was me?" Daniel Héderváry asked, flopping down alongside her on the bench. Louise just shook her head. "You're predictable, that's why." She said, shaking her head slightly so that her short blond hair was tossed softly in the breeze. He felt his breath hitch strangely in his throat at the sight of his German friend…she was just a friend, right? He thought of her as a little sister at the most, and couldn't fathom why in the next moment he had grabbed her chin and kissed her.

…

Louise's heart crashed in her chest, she could feel her blood rushing through her body to get to her face which was no doubt a fiery inferno by now.

The kiss felt good.

His tongue probed her lips, asking for entrance, and after a moment of hesitation she gave it to him. Her muscular arms went around her neck and held fast, while his hands settled on her waist, pulling her close.

"Click!" went the camera shutter.

The kiss broke off abruptly and the guilty parties looked up to see Maria, holding Daniel's camera, and grinning.

"So you have the hots for Louise, huh? Kesesesese~!" the albino cackled, and seeing the murderous glare on Daniel's face, took off running for her Austrian girlfriend, Rhoda's. Daniel followed suit.

Louise just wondered what the hell had just happened.

**-What the…-**

Ummm, well, this is for AnaMachado, thanks so much for being patient, and for the watch on DeviantARt. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	85. It's Twilight

Pairing: Taiwan/Turkey

**-Aww.-**

Sadiq peered out from behind the corner. She was still there, her beautiful chocolate tresses streaming out from behind her, held back by two pink flowers that looked absolutely adorable on the Taiwanese girl. The Turkish man rubbed his masked face, frustrated that his heart was doing flips in all sorts of directions when he saw her, and also tired after a long day of classes. He longed to go home and put his feet up, prank call Heracles, and settle down to a nice snack of _ashure. _

But he couldn't. Not when she was around at least.

She was radiant, and confident, and beautiful, and Sadiq was intimidated by her beauty and kindness, enchanted with her laughter, and would move heaven and earth kick Heracles's butt to the moon, all just to talk to her, maybe take her out for ice cream.

But he would settle for watching her now.

The twilight lit up her locks as she danced with her imaginary partner, and more than anything, Sadiq wanted to join her. He wanted to be the one who held her hand.

It was love at first sight, but something else as well.

It was Mei.

**-AWWZ!-**

I love this pairing. Who's with me? Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	86. Schadenfreude

_Pairing: Seme! America/Switzerland_

**-Ohonhonhonhon.-**

Alfred keeps the gun barrel shoved down Vash's throat.

It's their own little game they play.

The Swiss teen protests around the gun's mouth, but the click of the gun silences that. Alfred can't help but relish in the other's discomfort. It's his guilty pleasure.

Vash licks along the side of the cold metal in his mouth, thinking that he might be let go if he puts on a good show. Those ropes binding his wrists are starting to burn, sliding along the already reddened skin, starting to tear. Vash lets out an undignified whimper as the blood is drawn on his skin. It doesn't suit the Germanic nation, but hey, what can you do?

Alfred had his kinks, Vash had his.

This was one of Alfred's.

A breathy sigh around the gun gets the metal torn from his lips, and suddenly, Alfred is kissing him.

"You taste like metal." The American murmurs around Vash's mouth.

"What do you expect?" Vash retorts. After all, a gun has been just shoved down his throat.

Alfred pulls back and rubs his jaw, admiring the view that sends shivers down his spine. His beloved Vash tied up and blood beading on his lips. He leans in quickly and licks the liquid. A copper, hot taste fills his mouth as he bites down for more, relishing the metallic, red substance.

It's just a game they play.

But Vash loves it too.

**-Ummm.-**

How is it that both of my Switzerland x Canada or America has Seme! America/Canada and Switzy? I don't know. This is for **Emerald-Shadow-Knight, **THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE 200TH REVIEW. YOU ROCK. :D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	87. What He Wants

_Pairing: Finland/Rome_

**-Whoa. This is an awesome pairing.-**

Rome was watching him again.

It was hard not to notice him, the pale Nordic, with amethyst eyes that danced whenever he was happy. That and he had that small dog at his side almost all the time. However, the more the ancient nation spied on him, the more he realized Finland was beautiful and caring than he had ever imagined the Nordic to be, the way that most nations weren't.

Oh, how Rome ached to ensnare the gentle Nordic in his arms, caress the Finn's plump lips with his worn, calloused fingers. The once-glorious nation looked down from his place in the sky as the snow rained down on the nations just exiting the conference. The Italian ex-nation noticed the Finn talking to a sturdy, tall nation that he recognized as Sweden. He ground his teeth as Finland placed a grateful kiss on Sweden's cheek, at which the other Nordic blushed slightly.

No matter though. Rome would get Finland, when the Nordic finally would fade. Rome knew what he wanted and always got what he wanted.

And Rome wanted Finland.

**-So, there you go!-**

Hope you enjoyed it, this is dedicated to** XxEvilxX**, and of course I missed you! :D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	88. Unresponsive

Pairing: Spain/Norway

**-Beeeep.-**

The doctor led Antonio through the winding halls of the hospital, telling the Spaniard about his boyfriend's condition.

"Yes, Mr. Sorenson is breathing on his own, there's still some brain activity, but after all this time, this doesn't indicate conscious thought." The doctor told Antonio, arriving at hospital room 301, or the room of Antonio's lover, Nikolas. The Norwegian had been in a freak car accident many years before, and had slipped into a deep coma.

Many thought Antonio would take off, but no.

The lovable Spaniard spent each and every day at the hospital, so much that the nurses and doctors all knew him by name and all his personal details.

"Antonio, I know that you have hope. For years I've watched you come in, and talk to Nikolas, work passive motion therapy with him. I don't mean to discourage hope, there's been no change."

Antonio slightly smiled and sat down, taking the Norwegian's pale hand in his own tanned one.

"His vital signs have grown weaker in the past few months," the doctor continued, "That is why the EEG is here, to closely monitor his brain activity."

Antonio played with the slim fingers, not listening much to whatever the doctor was spouting. The medical man had been saying the exact few things for the past year or so, trying not to tell the whole truth.

The truth was that Nikolas would probably never wake up.

Antonio wouldn't give up.

After an extensive check-up on the screens monitoring the Norwegian's systems, the doctor left the room.

"Hey, _mi Corazon._ How've you been? You should see the tomatoes this year, they're healthier than ever! Remember that time you got drunk? You really looked like a tomato then!" The Spaniard smiled, leaning down to nuzzle the unresponsive face of his boyfriend.

Then something happened.

It happened so fast, Antonio wasn't sure it had been there.

Nikolas's hand twitched, and weakly grasped Antonio's hand.

The pressure on the hand started out weak, but then it started to grow.

Nikolas opened his eyes.

"Welcome back, mi Corazon."

**-AWWW! Sorry if it sucked.-**

This is dedicated to XxEvilxX, hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

I'm thinking about starting either "Holy Crack, I'm in Labor!" where crack pairings have children, or "Together Forever" where crack pairings get proposed to. :D Tell me what you think, and what you want.

Hasta la Pasta!


	89. Cigarettes

_Pairing: Liechtenstein/Cuba_

**-Raining.-**

The smoke from her cigarette mingled with the hiss of the rain outside the conference building. She normally would never do this. Her brother had told her never to do this. Austria had told her never to do this. Her friends told her to never do this.

Why did she do it?

Why did it feel so good?

So good, to have that cigarette dangling languidly in between her lips, the small plume of smoke almost naked in the gray sky. Liechtenstein took a long drag and let the smoke filter out from in between her pearly white teeth. Her now-dull green eyes glanced at the raining sky, bored. She didn't hear the door that led to the building open.

"What're you doing?" a gruff masculine voice growled, yanking the still burning cigarette from her pink lips, and snuffing it out with his heel.

Cuba.

Liechtenstein is quick to revert back to her usual self.

"M-Mr. Cuba! I wasn't…I mean…" she trails off fearfully, and his glare softens into concern. He pulls the girl into a rough embrace. She gave a stifled squeak as her face was pressed against the fabric of his  
>Hawaiian shirt.<p>

"Don't do that to yourself. I get enough work trying to beat up that arrogant American; I don't need you to harm yourself." Cuba explained, stroking her hair awkwardly.

_Click._

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?" an angry Switzerland thundered, aiming his assault rifle at the Cuban.

Oh brother.

Literally.

**-Wowza!-**

Hope you liked this, and please review if you want to!

WAIT. I've decided to do "Together Forever" now and then do "Holy Crack, I'm in Labor" later. :D Now, the real question is…what pairings do you want to get married? *evil grin*

Hasta la Pasta!


	90. High Notes

_Pairing: Austria/Japan_

-**Get ready ladies, and or fanboys! :3 -**

"No, no, like this!" an impatient Austrian said, forcefully yanking Japan's hands from his piano, and pressing them to each individual key. Japan tried not to get frustrated with his…boyfriend, but it was hard not to after three hours of trying to tap out an annoying French Child's song. The song itself was lovely, Japan scolded himself.

It was just Austria's way of teaching it.

Japan closed his eyes, and let the music surround him. That is, until he found a pair of lips on his. His eyes flashed open to find that Austria had leaned over and kissed him. His first instinct was to push him away, because of his personal space, but…he liked it…

Austria's lips were slightly chapped, hands in the Asian's hair pale and smooth, but strong as they held Japan in place, not allowing any escape. Japan's hands reached up to wind around the Austrian's neck, not to be left in the dust this time.

"Let me help you hit those high notes." The Austrian said, lust clouding his half-mast eyes. Japan could only blush scarlet.

-XD Well…-

Hope you liked it, and mainly dedicated to **Gingerclaw**, who has suggested this pairing over and over again, and I never got around to it. Hope you can forgive me! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	91. Tea Time

_Pairings: China/England & Seychelles/Spain_

**-WOOT!-**

It wasn't very often that China and Seychelles sat down for tea.

Almost never in fact, but today was an exception. It was exactly seven days before Valentine's Day, the day ALL nations feared, no exceptions. The most flamboyant nations would try to please their significant others, and usually would blow up something to prove their love. It was a good day for some, bad for others.

"Spain's probably going to get me heart-shaped tomatoes like last year." The island nation squealed, her fingers threading through her long dark hair, kept up in two pigtails tied with red ribbon.

"Aiyah. England's going to give me roses again this year, aru." China said tiredly, rubbing his pale forehead. Seychelles was puzzled.

"Why is that bad, China?" she asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

"Nothing's wrong, aru. I just don't look forward to spending my weekend with my legs in the air, aru." China said, half to himself, half to the island beauty in front of him. Seychelles sniggered.

"Don't you have a vase?" she asked, trying to hide her laughter.

"So rude, aru." China grumbled.

**-XDXD!-**

I owe my inspiration to a Valentine's day card, but hope you enjoyed this, and please review if you want to! This is for **Xou,** I did BOTH of your requests in ONE! :D Or at least mentioned them. :P

Hasta la Pasta!


	92. Pregnancy, and How To Tell the Fathers

_Pairing: Belarus/Romano_

**-EL CHIGI!-**

No. This could not be happening. THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING. Belarus ferociously glared at the pregnancy test, daring it to lie to her. The only thing staring up at her was the fatal pink-plus-sign of doom. She cursed and threw it in the garbage. She dug out yet another one from her purse. This would be the…57th? 58th? The real number was somewhere around those numbers. She once again took the test, and once again, the same symbol smiled up at her.

She washed her hands and stormed out of her house, knife in hand, eagerly awaiting a taste of Italian on its cold, unforgiving blade.

Soon enough, she reached the Italian's house, and with a well-placed kick to the door, broke it down and sent it flying down the hall. Romano stuck his head out of the kitchen, tomato in hand, and immediately blanched.

"You. Got. Me. Fucking. PREGNANT!" the Belarusian screamed, a volley of knives following the statement.

WELL. Romano knew what he had to do. He was El Chigi, dammit, and his tomato loving ass be damned, he was going to be a man.

"YOU CRAZY BITCH!" the Italian yelled as he catapulted himself through an open window, hitting the ground running.

Hell hath no fury like a pregnant knife-loving Belarusian, that's for sure.

**-I had way too much fun writing this.-**

**WILLOW THE COLLIE, YOU ARE AWESOME. PRUSSIA-AWESOME. **Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	93. Male?

_Pairing: Estonia/Turkey- This is set before Chapter 37, before Estonia gave birth to Katariina. _

**-AWWW!-**

Estonia paced in front of the kitchen door.

How was he going to explain this? HOW?

Well, he was sure Turkey would understand…oh god, HOW WOULD TURKEY UNDERSTAND?

How does a MAN tell his boyfriend that he is PREGNANT?

Well…Belarus did tell Romano…and said Italian ended up looking like a piece of raw meat. Estonia shuddered. Last he knew the Turkish nation carried no knifes concealed beneath that uniform of his that just hung off him in that totally sexy way…NO, NO, NO! Estonia slapped himself a few times to get the image of Turkey out of his head.

He should just come out with it, Estonia decided.

Okay. He could do this.

Estonia pushed open the door to reveal Turkey cooking dinner on the stove. Said nation turned and flashed Estonia a feral grin. "Ya done being sick?" Turkey asked his lover. Estonia nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. Turkey frowned, seeing his boyfriend so upset. "Are ya okay?" Turkey asked, switching off the stove and sitting down next to the Estonian.

Well, it was now or never. Estonia took a deep breath, and motioned for the Turk to come closer.

"I'm…Pregnant."

Turkey looked like he'd been hit by a bus driven by Italy.

"You're a man…right?" Turkey said, suddenly very interested with Estonia's privates, reaching out, only to be smacked by a totally male Estonian.

"OF COURSE I AM!"

**-Ha. Ha-ha!-**

Well, hope you liked it, and this is for **Emerald-Shadow-Knight, **hope you enjoyed it! And hope **Willow The Collie, **I hope you feel better! Throat infections suck, huh? Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	94. Scarfs

_Pairing: Vietnam/Netherlands_

**-Love is in the air!-**

Vietnam shivered as she stepped out of the conference hall. It was colder than she had imagined, and she hadn't come prepared. Her paddle bounced against her hip as she walked, slapping her thigh rhythmically as she passed several nations talking amongst themselves.

Her hands curled into her sleeves, seeking warmth. Suddenly, something was looped around her neck from behind, sending her backwards into the arms of the Netherlands.

"You looked as though you were cold." He stated, tying his blue-striped scarf around her neck, a faint blush on his face.

"Thanks." She replied, and felt blood rise up to her own cheeks.

"Happy Valentine's Day." The European nation told her, producing a small chocolate from behind his back.

She smiled.

**-Aww.-**

Well, Happy Early Valentine's Day to everyone! Hope you liked it, and this is for **Htjytvhjtvhgjv**, whoever you are. Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	95. Canción de Cuna

Pairing: Spain/Fem! Prussia

**-For Glowstick145-**

"Antonio!" Maria called. "Yeah, Maria?" the Spaniard answered back, poking his head out of the kitchen to where his girlfriend was, in her pajamas, rubbing her sleepy scarlet eyes.

"The awesome me can't sleep." She grumbled, Gilbird nestling in her white hair, giving a small chirp. Antonio beamed.

"Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?" he asked, walking over to her and reaching a hand out to smooth down her mane. She tilted her head, thinking about it, and then a feral grin took hold of her features. "YEAH!" she grinned, and punched the air.

**-Lalala.-**

"_A la nanita nana, nanita ella, nanita ella. __Mi niña tiene sueño bendito sea, bendito sea." _Antonio sang softly as he carried his Prussian in his tanned arms towards the bedroom. Maria smiled and nuzzled into his chest, closing her eyes.

Antonio smiled as he tucked her in.

"Buenas noches, María. Te amo. Feliz Día de San Valentín." He whispered, pressing a gente kiss to the top of her head.

As he headed out the door, he heard her muffled voice reply, "Ich liebe dich auch. Alles Gute zum Valentinstag. The awesome me bids you goodnight."

He smiled, and turned around, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around their entwined figures, the melody still playing in their heads.

"_Fuentecita que corre_  
><em>clara y sonora<em>  
><em>Ruiseñor que en la selva<em>  
><em>cantando llora<em>  
><em>Calla mientras la cuna se balancea<em>  
><em>A la nanita nana, nanita ella."<em>

_-Aww.-_

Hope you liked it, and please review if you want to! Happy Valentine's Day!

Hasta la Pasta!


	96. Kites

_Pairing: China/Liechtenstein _

**-It's almost 11…-**

The pink kite floated serenely in the sky, as if surveying the park below it.

Liechtenstein smiled shyly at her companion as he launched his red-gold kite that flew over their heads. China returned the smile, one hand outstretched to her, and she took it, feeling his pale head encircle hers and hold tightly.

The oriental nation and the Germanic nation exchanged smiles, and China leaned over tentatively, and after a minute of hesitation, gently pressing their lips together in a soft sigh, and both let go of their kites simultaneously, which then drifted upwards into the heavens as their owners sat kissing on the grass.

**-AWWW!- **

Hope you liked it, and this is for **Ayumi Kudou**, who wanted something cute! :D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	97. Sunflowers

_Pairing: Fem! Russia/Germany_

**-Aww-**

Ludwig fidgeted on the doorstep, eyes looking anywhere but the heavy oak door that blocked him and his date from one another. A sharp ringing had resounded through the house a moment earlier when he'd pushed the doorbell cautiously, as if expecting it to detonate on impact.

The German took his hand out of his pocket, put it back in, and out once again, not wanting to crush the bouquet of proud sunflowers he'd seen at a flower shop on the way over.

This was his make-it-or-break-it moment.

There was a brief shuffling on the other side of the door and the door was opened by Nikolai Braginski.

Uh-oh.

The Belarusian's eyes narrowed at the sight of Ludwig. "What do you want?" the white-haired male hissed at the stoic blond. Suddenly, Ivanna's face was over her brother's head, looking murderous. "Time to go back inside, Nikolai, da?" she said, fierce Russian accent clouding her words. Immediately the Belarusian retreated, eager to please his sister. She stepped outside as he stepped in, and slammed the door in his face.

Ludwig was alarmed, but calmed as Ivanna took the sunflowers from him with an ecstatic expression, and gave him a bone-crushing hug. "I love them!" she said contently, nestling into Ludwig's side. He smiled slightly and blushed.

He loved her too.

-AWWW!-

Thank you so much everyone's who has reviewed and supplied, it's been such a busy weekend and everything, but no worries, I will try to fulfill every request! This is for** Glowstick145, **hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	98. Firecrackers

_Pairings: China/Seychelles & Hong-Kong/Liechtenstein _

**-Hehehe~ evil laugh-**

"Are you cold?" Hong Kong asked his date. Liechtenstein nodded slightly and pulled her jacket around her tighter, then squeaked as the Asian nation wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. "Better?" he asked her, and she nodded, contentedly burrowing into his side. She gazed up at the sky, gasping, her breath visible in the cold weather. "The stars are so beautiful tonight!" she gushed, and Hong Kong looked upwards, giving a slight murmur of agreement.

Then they heard the noise. The noise was a slight rustling of branches and leaves somewhere to their right. The two exchanged curious glances and decided to investigate, Hong Kong holding firmly onto his Germanic girlfriend's hand. She blushed, but it was not visible in the darkness.

They cautiously peered around a tree, and Hong Kong stifled a laugh, because there was China and Seychelles.

Kissing.

China's arms were looped around her waist and Seychelles' hands were knotted in his smooth black hair.

Hong Kong discreetly shrugged three small firecrackers out of his sleeve.

He lit a match.

Liechtenstein watched in fascination as he lit the fuses and quickly tossed them into the clearing where his brother and his date were kissing.

"Now would be our time to run." He mused, and grabbing Liechtenstein's hand once again, spirited her away down the street. In the background, they could hear ostentatious bangs and quite a lot of curse words, Mandarin and French to be precise being issued from the couple's lips.

Together, the guilty couple laughed and laughed their way back home.

It had been a fun date.

-AWWW!-

This is for **Ayumi Kudou, **two birds with one HUUUUGE stone. :3 Hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	99. Poppies and Plum Blossoms

Pairing: China/Belgium

**-I'm so sorry I haven't' updated!-**

China smiled softly as he cupped one of the many poppies that blossomed from the ground.

The flower smelled sweet, like fresh rosy mornings and star-covered evenings. The Chinese man fingered the soft petals, pressing his thin lips against the fragile flower. He thought of the flower, and how its ruby tones paled in comparison to the country it represented.

Belgium. Her golden locks would cascade around her shoulders; her emerald-toned eyes would dance with mirth in her smiling face as she would gaze upon her sweetheart holding her country's flower.

"Tell me, Belgium. Do these blossoms please you, aru?" he asked himself, not expecting to hear an answer.

He got an answer anyways.

"I don't know. Though I'm partial to my own flower, plum blossoms smell amazing." A perky voice told him. He whirled around, his scarlet cheongsam swirling around his legs.

She laughed a peal of bells into the air. He smiled slightly, and twirled the stem of the flower, arms open. She giggled and flew into them, the scent of poppies evident on her tresses.

Poppies and plum blossoms made a strange pair.

But it worked.

**-Heehee~!-**

Hope you enjoyed, and this is dedicated to **Ayumi Kudou and spottedmask471. **:D Please review if you want to!

Hasta la Pasta!


	100. Hold Me Through the Phone

Pairing: Australia/Denmark

Warning: Post-divorce feels

()()()()

They don't talk that much anymore.

They never really did. All of their conversations had panned out in the bedroom, words mouthed by lips too busy with tasting skin and stars from where the moonlight managed to peek through the blinds, illuminating blond hair and disappointment.

It's been ten years since the divorce and Jett still can't look at Christian straight, something that irritates the hell out of both of them, but their routine has become so set in stone, it feels almost wrong to disrupt it with trivial conversation about looks.

It's been years, but it doesn't stop Christian from keeping every single one of their wedding photos hidden in a box in his closet, along with the touches and caresses of a marriage long since faded. It's been years, but Jett can't drink anything other than the Danish beer Christian almost forced him to choke down, anything else tastes false.

Christian can't blame Jett for the divorce. It wasn't Jett who had lost restraint and spent a drunken night in a theatre box in Oslo with an old flame and ended up on the headlines.

Jett can't blame Christian either, because in a way, Christian was never truly his, and Jett still loves the Dane too much to judge.

They don't talk that much anymore.

"Hello?" the loud voice of the Dane came over the phone, bleary from sleep. Jett still hasn't remembered the time differences, and that's what Christian knows from the caller I.D.

Jett doesn't say anything, but Christian stays on the line for hours, silent as a whisper.

They don't talk that much anymore.

They really didn't have to.

()()()()

So I was planning on doing something big for the 100th chapter, but life happened and I didn't update the story for a year or so. No real inspiration to keep it up anyways.

Really sorry about that. Anyways, I'll try to update the story quicker in the future.

Thanks for your love and support, guys.

Hasta la Pasta!


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